Without You, I'm Nothing
by Lazarus76
Summary: Arthur and Eames are in a relationship - one characterised by anger and violence. How long until one of them finally snaps? Originally Rated M for more adult themes.
1. Chapter 1

Wincing, Arthur sat up in bed.

Glancing down, he saw the black mottled bruise on his lower abdomen. Touching it, he felt a spasm of pain through the muscular wall. Leaning on one arm, he swung his legs around, and put his feet on the floor.

Moving into the kitchen to make coffee, he noticed the clothes, lying in a heap near the washing machine. He grimaced as he remembered how they had sparked the fight.

He'd requested, politely, that his clothes be put in the washing machine that morning. He had to leave early for a breakfast meeting with Cobb and a new client, and hadn't had time to put them in. He'd left a note, signed with thanks and kisses.

He'd returned home that evening, in good spirits. Walking into the hallway, he'd heard the low hum of the TV. He was back earlier than he'd expected. Smiling, he'd walked into the lounge to kiss him-

-and noticed the three suits, still folded on a chair at the entrance to the room, with the note on top of them.

"Hey," he said lightly, moving in and kissing him on the top of the head. He was sitting, slumped, and didn't take his eyes off the screen.

"Hey yourself."

"Listen, um-" Arthur cleared his throat. He knew he had to handle this carefully. "I left some suits to be put in the wash, they haven't been done, and I-"

"Oh, so that's my bloody fault, is it?"

Startled, Arthur blinked. "No, I'm just saying-"

"I hear you. You're saying they haven't been washed, and you're implying that its my fault. I didn't realise I was your personal maid, Artie."

"I'm not saying you are, I'm just –"

"Hinting!" the voice had risen an octave. Arthur felt a wave of apprehension starting to wash over him.

"I'm not hinting, Eames, I'm just-!"

"Yes, you fucking are!" The older man rose to his feet – in the dimness of the flickering light from the screen, his face had taken on an ugly, twisted quality. "You leave in the morning without so much as a goodbye, piling clothes up, and leaving little notes on them giving me instructions! Then you swan back in, and start demanding to know why I haven't washed _your_ suits! instead of 'how are you, how was your day', I get accusations that I'm not fulfilling your needs! Why don't you take your fucking Armani suits to a dry cleaners, people you actually _pay _to do the things you think you're above doing!"

Arthur took a step back. Eames' anger was frightening.

"Eames." Arthur tried to keep his tone calm. "I don't think I'm above doing my laundry, I'm not treating you like maid. I forgot to put my washing on last night, I thought that if I left you a note, you wouldn't mind doing it. I assumed-"

"You assume a lot, don't you Artie? You assume that I'm happy to do your washing, you assume I'm happy for you to treat me like the hired help. I'm fucking sick of it!"

"Eames!" Arthur felt bewildered at the attack. "Eames, this is insane! I only asked you to do some laundry, I don't understand what the problem is-"

He stopped. Eames' fist had slammed straight into his abdomen. Gasping, Arthur bent over, trying to catch his breath.

Two hands grabbed him, pulling him up straight, and pushing him into the wall.

"I'm sorry, Artie," Eames' voice was apologetic. "I'm sorry. But you did ask for it. You shouldn't expect me to do your washing, you shouldn't treat me like your servant. You know that it upsets me, and you still do it. I don't want to hurt you, but you bring it on yourself."

He let his hands drop off Arthur's shoulders. The Point Man gasped, tears welling up in his eyes. Eames turned and walked back to his armchair, and settled in it.

Arthur looked at his lover. "Eames-"

"Yes, darling?"

"I'm sorry."

"So am I."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer; Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews are appreciated, thank you!**

Arthur stood in the shower, feeling his upper arm. It felt sore and tender. Prodding it gently, he grimaced, and tears threatened to well up again.

Stepping out of the shower, he reached for a towel, and gasped as a spasm of pain shot through his tricep. Wrapping it round himself, he then wandered into the kitchen.

He opened a coffee canister. The smell of the ground beans caught him in the back of his throat, and he began to gag. Rushing back into the bathroom, he threw up bile and phlegm.

The smell of coffee. It sparked memories of the fight. Cobb had mentioned how he had wanted a cappuccino, double shot, and Ariadne had wistfully mentioned how a mocha would be a good idea. Arthur had felt himself in need of caffeine, so had volunteered to do the coffee run. A Starbucks was on the corner, near the warehouse.

Entering, he'd not noticed the barista. A young man with thick, dyed black hair and a small goatee. Blue eyes looked out from under thick brows, one of which had a piercing attached. As Arthur had approached the counter, he'd practically shoved a young woman out of the way.

"May I help you?" The voice was warm, with a slightly flirtatious hint. Arthur blinked. The barista was was smiling at him.

"Um…I'd like a double shot cappuccino, a white Americano, a caramel mocha, and a non-fat sugar free vanilla latte, to go."

"Of course." The barista started marking the take out cups. "I take it the latte is for you?"

Arthur looked at the barista. "How'd you guess?"

The barista shrugged. "You look like the type of guy who looks after himself."

Arthur smiled. "You've got a point."

He studied the barista as he deftly foamed milk and ground espresso. He was of average height, with a slim build. As he laughed, Arthur saw a flash of metal, and realised he had a tongue piercing. The thought of a pierced tongue sent a shiver through him.

The barista poured the drinks into the cadboard cups. "Do you want a tray?"

"Please."

The plastic tops were snapped on. Arthur handed over a twenty.

"So, what time do you finish?"

Arthur froze.

"My shift finishes at five." The barista was smiling at him – a genuine smile. Arthur felt himself flush.

"I thought we could go somewhere." The smile was still there. "Except not for coffee."

"I-" Arthur began.

"I'm afraid he's already taken," a smooth British voice interrupted. Arthur felt a large, blunt hand placed on his shoulder. Its twin was at his waist.

"Oh". Embarassment and shock was beginning to snake across the barista's face; a twin expression was appearing on Arthur's. Eames tightened his grip on Arthur's slender waist.

"That'll be 18.50." The barista hurriedly ran the total through the till, and dumped the change on the counter. He refused to look at Arthur.

"Thank you." Confused, Arthur picked up the tray, and headed for the door. Eames followed him.

"That looked very cosy, pet." Eames was smiling, but Arthur could see the menace that lurked in the grey eyes.

"He was just being cocky."

"I'll say." Eames steered the Point Man down a small alley. "Thinking he could make eyes at my boyfriend…unless, of course, you wanted it?"

Arthur looked at Eames. Genuine surprise was written on his face. "Wanted it? Eames-"

"He was very young," the silky voice hissed. "Young, and good looking, and obviously had stamina. Tell me, Artie, do you think of me like that? Or do you think of me as being old, fat and ugly?"

"Eames!" Arthur had heard enough. "He was a young guy trying to flirt. If he'd been hitting on Ariadne, you wouldn't have batted an eyelid."

"Ariadne doesn't share my flat. My life. My bed." The voice was dangerous.

"Eames. I love you. What is the-"

He stopped. Eames' fist had collided with his upper arm, sending a spasm of pain. He stumbled, and dropped the tray of take out coffee.

"Don't ever do that, Artie", Eames spat. "Don't ever flirt with anyone again and then try and make out its them. I'm not stupid – I saw you smile, saw the way you tossed your head. Saw the way you turned to show off your body in that suit. You are nothing but a s-"

"What am, I? Eames?" Arthur glared at him, anger beginning to blot out the pain. "What am I?"

Eames took a step back.

"You're mine, and I love you so much." Eames sounded remorseful. "I love you Artie. I think I'll go and buy replacement coffee." He turned, and started walking back in the direction of Starbucks.

Arthur rubbed his numb arm. A pool of coffee had collected at his feet, quickly augmented by his tears.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Arthur examined his back in the mirror. A purple and green bruise was across his lower back. Bending at the waist was painful; having it touched was agony.

He flinched, with memories coming back. He'd been at home, in bed, when suddenly his BlackBerry had pinged into life. A message had flashed up from Cobb:

_Arthur – the mark is on the move. Please come and meet me, 20 minutes. Cobb._

Arthur had had no choice. They'd been tracking this mark for weeks, and it had gradually sucked away more of his life. He'd eaten, slept, and dreamt about the mark. This was finally a chance to nail him, perform the extraction, and get his life back.

He'd got up, kissed him on the cheek, and written a note. Dressing quickly, he'd headed out, noting it was 1am.

Four hours later, he'd returned, exhausted but elated. He and Cobb, thanks to Ariadne's designs and Yusuf's new sedative, had performed extraction. A cool half a million was coming to his bank account, he thought with satisfaction.

Tearing his clothes off, and dropping them on the floor, he got back into bed. He laid down next to his lover, inhaling his scent and tracing his fingers over his tattoos. Wrapping an arm around him, he sighed and burrowed next to his shoulder.

"You took your bloody time."

Arthur stiffened. He was awake. And there was anger in his voice.

"I hope they were good for you, Artie."

Arthur placed his hand on Eames' back. "It was work, Eames. Cobb messaged me and –"

"Oh, I should have guessed! Cobb calls, lets drop everything and run! Because, of course, work is far more important than being here with me, isn't it?"

Arthur sighed. "Its not like that. This was a very important job, you must have realised that-"

"How could I not?" Eames' voice bit with venom. "Its all you've fucking talked about for weeks. How many nights have you left me here on my own, how many times have you stood me up, how many dates have you cancelled, because of this fucking job? Or is it Cobb? Are you secretly slipping him a sly one when no-one's looking? Or maybe its Ariadne. Like to swing both ways, do you Artie?"

"Eames!" Arthur sat bolt upright, anger beginning to course. "You know that Cobb and I are not like that. You know that Ariadne would never look at me. You also know that they would never contact me this late unless he really needed me-"

"I FUCKING NEED YOU!" Eames was practically screaming now. "You're my boyfriend, for fuck's sake! Has it ever occurred in your pretty little head that I might need you? I might need your support whilst I'm being investigated? Or are you really so self-centred that I don't even register, except when you need someone to suck you off?"

Arthur turned to get out of the bed, and then fell forward, hitting his chin on the bedside cabinet. A punch, hard and fast, had hit him in the small of his back. He gasped.

"I didn't want to do that, darling". The voice sounded almost apologetic. "But you have to realise, I am so tired of being bottom of your priorities. Cobb calls, you go. Ariadne calls, you go. I can just lie here, and you're nowhere to be found. You don't appreciate me, you don't care about us. I love you Artie, but I don't think you love me."

"You know that's not true," Arthur wheezed out the words, tears running down his face. "You know I love you, Eames."

"Then prove it. No more late night calls, no more running as soon as Cobb snaps his fingers."

"Of course." Arthur lay on his stomach, pain beginning to make him feel woozy.

Eames moved to lie on top of him, kissing the back of his neck.

"I knew you'd understand darling. You have to stop being so selfish."

Arthur, wincing with pain, let the pillow absorb his tears.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me, all readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Arthur winced as he leaned over the desk. Pain was present in his upper torso.

Ariadne entered, smiling. "Arthur, I'm just going out to get Danish. Do you want a pastry?"

"No, I'm fine."

"You should have one!" the Architect's face was creasing with concern. "You're so thin, its-"

"My weight is none of your business!" the Point Man practically snarled at her. She flushed to her roots, and then turned and walked out. Arthur felt tears begin to well in his eyes. He'd snapped at Ariadne, all because she'd made a comment about a subject that had started the fight last night.

He'd been in bed, waiting for him. They'd not been intimate for a couple of weeks, and Arthur was determined to show him how much he loved him that night. He came in, dressed in black silk boxers, his body toned and strong. He pulled back the covers, and jumped into bed. On top of Arthur.

Who groaned with pain. His right leg had been inadvertently trapped by his partner's weight.

"What is it, pet?" Eames drew back, a look of concern moving across his face.

"Its nothing – just my leg – I think you jumped on it-"

"And my jumping on it did what?"

"Well, it did hurt-"

"So I'm too heavy for you, am I Artie? Too bulky?"

Arthur started to pull himself up. "I didn't say that, I just said that you jumped on my leg and it hu-"

"Well, if you weren't so bloody scrawny it wouldn't be a problem."

Arthur blinked. "Scrawny?"

"You heard. Bony, thin, weak. How many ways do you want it described? If you went to the gym, bulked up a bit, maybe you wouldn't find my weight such a problem to you."

"Eames!" Stung, Arthur rolled over to face him. "I never said you were too heavy for me. I only said-"

"No, you never said it – just dropped a hint! Sorry, Artie, but I go to the gym, I run. I have muscles. You just have-" Eames cast a withering glance over his lover's body "-bones. I'm amazed I haven't snapped you like a twig. But of course, that would be my fault wouldn't it. Or maybe it is, for choosing a boyfriend whose built like a straw and doesn't do anything about it!"

Arthur couldn't believe his ears. "I thought you liked the way I looked, I thought you liked my-"

"Oh, its not bad with your clothes on. But with your clothes off, that's a different issue. Take Cobb, now that's what a man looks like!"

"Cobb?" Bewildered, Arthur put his hands on Eames shoulders. "You think I look bad compared to Cobb?"

"Bad? Weak, underfed, and pathetic. So, no, not bad."

"That's not fair!" Anger was building in Arthur's voice. "This is the way I'm built! You know that! If you think I'm so inferior, go and try it on with C-"

He was silenced by a bruising blow to his chest, hitting him in his lower ribs. He gasped, and then felt a prickling sensation of tears in his eyes. Eames moved back from him.

"Why do you do this?" His voice was gentle. "Why do you persist in upsetting me, Artie? I jumped on you, I thought that was what you wanted. The fact you're so thin isn't my fault, and I'm tired of being made to feel that your shortcomings are."

Arthur rolled to his other side. Tears were streaming down his face.

"You really need to stop playing the victim," the soft British voice continued. "It makes you look so pathetic, Artie, you know that. I need a man whose strong, and you're anything but. I think you need some help."

He rolled away from Arthur, and switched off the bedside light. Arthur lay in the dark, unable to see shadows due to the tears blurring his vision.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews are very much appreciated, thank you!**

Arthur rubbed his face. His lower torso, especially his abdomen, was black and blue. He turned, and saw his newest suit crumpled on the floor, like garbage. He shuddered. Memories of the previous night came flooding back.

He hadn't intended for the evening to end the way it did. He'd thought that Yusuf's 30th birthday party – to which the whole team were invited – would be a pleasant evening. A chance to see people outside of work, to talk, drink, and dance.

He'd seen the sparkle in his partner's eyes when he'd come down the stairs to the lobby. Wearing a new suit, he'd felt good, and the look he'd been given confimed he looked it. The ride to the party was calm, with small talk being made. Upon entering the venue, Eames had slid his hand into Arthur's and clasped it, and the Point Man had relaxed, feeling comfortable in his relationship.

Cobb had come up to them, offered them drinks. Eames had agreed, and disappeared to the bar. Arthur had felt a little unsure, until Yusuf had come up, with a few others in tow. Before he realised, Arthur was caught up in introductions and talking, making contacts and new acquaintances. Before he knew it, an hour and a half had flown by.

Arthur decided he needed a drink. Going to the bar, he'd found Eames. Alone.

"Hey", he smiled.

"Hey." The Forger's voice was slightly slurred, a half empty glass of scotch was in front of him. Arthur ordered himself a dry martini.

Eames put his hand on Arthur's. "Lets go."

"Eames, I just ordered-"

"Its an open bar. Lets go."

Arthur acquiesced, feeling uneasy. The ride home was silent. Eames refused to talk or even look at him, and Arthur tried to keep his mind on driving.

Inside the kitchen, Eames headed straight for the liquor cabinet. Arthur found his voice.

"Don't you think you've had enough?"

"Like you fucking care."

The tone was ugly. So was the expression on the Forger's face. Arthur silently watched as Eames reached for a glass.

"Don't be stupid." Arthur's voice was edged with anger. "You know I care."

"Oh do you?" The grip on the glass was tightening. As were the lines around the mouth.

Arthur lost patience.

"Yes, I do!" He shouted, making no effort to keep his tone reasonable. "You know I do! What the hell happened, Eames? It was Yusuf's party, I went intending to have a good time and-"

"Oh, so you went intending to have a good time, did you? So, fuck what I wanted then!"

"What did you intend to have? A drinking session? Propping up the bar?"

"No, I did not!" Eames' voice was dangerously loud. "I went intending to socialise, but my boyfriend, who knows I'm not comfortable with a load of pseudo-intellectual science types, abandoned me! What else could I do but go to the bar, whilst you were standing there demanding attention!"

Arthur swallowed.

"I did not demand attention-"

"Oh, come of it Arthur," Eames sneered. "You go out, wearing that suit – a new one – and immediately start flirting with everyone who comes within a yard of you! As soon as we got there, it was all me, me, me! You have to have everyone look at you, don't you? Have to have everyone dangling off your every word. Whats the matter Artie? Don't I give you enough attention? If I don't, I'm really sorry, maybe this will make up for it!"

The punch was swift, and hard. Catching Arthur straight in the middle of his abdomen, it caused him to fall backwards, into the wall. He crumpled at the waist and bent over. Gasping, he saw Eames casually pour himself more scotch.

"I really have had enough of this, Artie." The Forger took a swallow of Scotch. "You are such a child. So spoiled. You seem to think all you have to do is pout and toss your head, and I'll forgive you for everything. Forgive you for the fact that you have to be the centre of attention, and ignore me. Trust me, darling, I'm getting really fed up with it. You need to learn that you're not the centre of the universe."

Arthur wiped a hand over his face. Tears made his palm slick.

"I really wonder how much longer this relationship will last. You need to think about your behaviour, Artie. Start thinking about me. Put me first. If you love me, you will."

Eames drained the last of his scotch and left the glass on the side, then proceeded to leave the room. Arthur, his head beginning to pound, slid down the wall, and curled up on the floor.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews are appreciated, thank you!**

Arthur ran a cold flannel over his face. His eyes were red, and puffy. He'd cried himself to sleep the previous night, partly out of pain and partly out of fear. Looking down, he twisted, and saw the bruising over his stomach.

The night before had been unexpected. After returning home, neither had been unduly tired, and he had suggested they go out to eat. Arthur had agreed – eating out was meant to be normal, the type of activity that couples did. He had suggested Italian food, and Arthur had acquiesced.

At the restaurant, Eames had asked the waiter for bottle of Frascati. He'd also offered Arthur a martini. Surprised by this, he'd agreed.

The Frascati was chilled to perfection, and complimented the meal perfectly. Two glasses of wine, and a martini later, Arthur was feeling relaxed. Eames ordered him another martini. It disappeared down Arthur's throat.

He noticed Eames wasn't drinking. "Are you ok?"

The Forger smiled. "I'm fine, darling. Its good to see you let go a little, enjoy yourself. Dessert?"

Arthur smiled. "I think I'm full."

"No, I insist. Pecan pie?"

"Well…" Arthur paused. "OK…"

"Excellent." Eames gestured to a waiter. Whilst giving the waiter the order, he casually re-filled Arthur's glass.

The combination of alcohol and a sweet was having a soporific effect. By the time they arrived at home, Arthur was leaning on Eames. He manouvered him into the bedroom, and left him lying on the bed. Going into the bathroom, he stripped to his underwear, and came out.

"Arthur, darling…" he got on the bed, and straddled the Point Man, and gently stroked his face. "You need to wake up…"

Arthur shifted. "Hmmm? Eames, I'm tired. And I'm a bit drunk."

Eames drew back. "Oh, so I'm going to get ignored tonight, am I?"

"No…" Arthur was drowsy, and unaware of the expression flickering across Eames' face. "I'm just…a bit too full…shouldn't have had that pecan pie…"

"I didn't make you have it."

"No, I've just got a sweet tooth."

"Then you shouldn't have eaten it. Come on Arthur, I'm waiting for you."

Arthur rolled onto his side. "Eames. I'm too tired."

"Oh, so you're impotent now are you?"

Arthur's eyes flicked open. "What?"

"You heard. I don't understand you. I take you out for dinner, buy you drinks, and when we get back, you're suddenly too tired to give me any attention. You're never too tired to give my wallet attention though, are you?"

Arthur sat upright. "Eames, I don't-"

"You don't! You don't! You never do anything, that's the fucking problem! You go to work, you come home, you never want to enjoy yourself, you never want intimacy! You are such a boring, stick in the mud, and frankly, sex with you isn't worth the wait anymore!"

Arthur's eyes were wide with shock. "I don't understa-"

"You never do! You don't want to! You don't even try! Well, maybe tonight you'd like to!"

Straddling Arthur aggressively, he pushed down on the smaller man. Grabbing at his wrists, he tried to pull the Point Man across the bed. The younger man struggled.

"Eames! Please, let go! I'm sorry I've upset you, but I didn't mean-"

"You never mean anything. Even when we fuck, it means nothing." He pulled Arthur up and punched him straight into the stomach. The Point Man doubled up, and ran for the bathroom.

He only just missed the bowl. Vomit splattered the side of the toilet, and he sank back, tears in his eyes.

Eames ran into the bathroom. "Oh, Artie. Why did you have to do that? What a mess." He picked up a towel, and placed it over the pool of vomit. "You really can't hold your drink."

Arthur heaved.

"Artie." Eames crouched down next to him. "You really need to get some professional help. You never want sex, you never want to spend time with me. I'm beginning to think you're frigid. Not even the drink tonight loosened you up. You do have a problem darling, and I'm only saying this to help you."

He kissed the top of Arthur's head, and got up. Arthur hung over the edge of the toilet, wishing that this was a dream he could wake up from.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Arthur locked himself inside the cubicle at the warehouse, trying to slow down his pulse. The memory of what had just happened caused his lip to quake and the all-too familiar taste of tears rise to the back of his throat.

He pulled of his jacket, and rolled up his shirt sleeves. Black bruising covered his left forearm, a sign of where he had gripped and twisted the previous night. Arthur grabbed the sink, trying to calm his breathing.

He had left the warehouse late. Ariadne had been insistent on getting his opinions for a design, and Arthur hadn't the heart to refuse her. She'd been unusually quiet around him of late, almost formal. She always asked him if he wanted tea or coffee, and offered to buy him pastries. But she never stopped to chat with him. And so, Arthur had begun to notice, did Cobb.

He'd examined the designs, noting how flawless they were, the attention to minute detail. She had suggested that they go for a drink; she'd commented that he looked tired. Arthur had begun to refuse, then reconsidered. Ariadne was a colleague, a friend, and he was feeling increasingly isolated. They headed to a local wine bar.

At the bar, they had both had one drink. Conversation had been focused on work. Arthur had hailed a cab, feeling too tired to walk ten blocks. As he got out, he noticed the lights were off. He considered this strange – Eames had left work two hours before.

As he let himself in, he noticed something lying on the floor. An envelope. In shreds. Stiffening, Arthur walked cautiously towards the living room.

He was sitting there. In a chair, in complete darkness. Arthur moved to switch on a small lamp.

"Well, well." Sarcasm heavily laced Eames' words.

"Eames? What are you doing in the dark?"

"Oh, I like the dark, Artie. I like the dark because it means I can't see things I dislike."

Arthur tensed.

"Such as?" He tried to keep his tone light.

"Such as this".

A piece of paper fluttered across the room, catching Arthur in the chest. It fell to the floor. Bending down, Arthur reached down to pick it up. It was a letter, addressed to him. From Aidan, an old college buddy.

"Nice little love note, that." Eames' voice was toneless.

"Eames." Arthur struggled to keep his tone reasonable. "Aidan is an old friend. We were freshmen together. He's only writing to see if he could come and stay-"

"-And he can't. Don't reply."

"I will reply." A hot surge of anger welled up inside the Point Man. "He's a friend. You may not want him to stay, but I own half the house, and if I want them-"

He stopped. The Forger had got up, grabbed his forearms, and slammed him backwards into the wall. Arthur gasped, partly from shock and partly by pain.

Eames leaned in close. He spoke drawlingly, bitingly in the dimness.

"What a white livered, cowardly little bastard you are."

"What?"

"You write letters to an 'old friend', who conveniently invites himself to stay. And even more conveniently, its just before I'm due to go back to Mombasa for a couple of weeks. Planning on entertaining thoroughly, were you? You are nothing but a slut!"

"I didn't write to him, he wrote to me, I haven't heard from him for two ye-"

"Is that the best you can come up with, Artie? You're caught out in conducting an affair, with some buff young stud, and you think I'm going to be fobbed off with you claiming he's contacted you by surprise?"

"It's the best I can come up with, because its true!"

"I DON'T BELIEVE YOU!" Eames was screaming, his voice shot through with venom. "I don't believe you, because you're never here with me! You're always at work, we never have sex, you flinch every time I approach you! And the reason, is because you're knocking off someone else! You two-faced lying little slag!"

Arthur's vision blurred.

"Maybe if you treated me better, Eames, I would-"

"Oh, here we go! 'maybe if you treated me better!'" He cruelly mimicked Arthur's voice, making it high pitched and nasal. "How about how you treat me? You're a controlling, self-obsessed, boring stick up his arse, and frankly, anyone else who tried to fuck you would probably die of boredom in about five minutes! When was the last time you managed to even get it up? When was the last time you made me cum? And don't even get me started on that pathetic body of yours! Ariadne has more muscle than you!"

He grabbed Arthur's forearms, and threw him sideways. The Point Man fell into the lamp, which crashed to the floor. He crumpled next to it, catching his head on the table.

"If I find anyone has come to stay whilst I'm in Mombasa, Artie, you will regret it. I know I seem hard, but I can't have you thinking me going away is an opportunity for you to get a quick fuck. I should be enough for you, and you don't seem to realise how much you hurt me. Without me, you'd be nothing. I live with you, I do it because I love you. You are very hard to love, Artie."

Eames turned and walked out. Arthur picked up pieces of the shattered lamp. It reflected his life back to him.

A loud banging on the door startled the Point Man. He quickly rinsed his face, and unlocked the door.

Pulling it open, he came face to face with Cobb. Whose eyes immediately dropped to Arthur's forearms.

"I-I", Arthur couldn't find the words.

Cobb's gaze was steady. "Arthur. We really need to talk."

"


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Arthur swallowed. He watched as he sorted through his packing.

"Right. Passport, wallet, currency…all the important documents." He gave Arthur a hard look. "You do remember I'll expect you to meet me at the airport, don't you?"

"Of course."

Eames turned his back to the younger man, and began loading shirts into the case. Arthur turned and walked through the house, barely noticing the light, cheerful décor or the sun sending shadows to stain the walls. He headed for the garden. Reaching it, he collapsed into one of the wrought iron chairs, his legs shaking. His mind taunted him with memories of the previous day.

Cobb had refused to budge. He'd stood there, his light blue eyes boring into Arthur's dark ones. Arthur realised that unless he spoke, they would stand like this for the rest of the day.

"Are you going to tell me whats going on?"

"Nothing's going on. I'm here, you're here, we need to get back to work-" Arthur tried to walk past the Extractor but he put a restraining hand on his shoulder.

"You're not going back to work, Arthur. You need to tell me how you got that bruising."

Arthur shrugged. "The gym. Heavy lifting."

"When was the last time you went to the gym? You've been pulling overtime for weeks."

The Point Man tried to bluff again. "This weekend."

"When?"

"Sunday morning."

"That's strange." Cobb looked disbelievingly at Arthur. "I swear Yusuf said he saw you in Starbucks on Sunday morning. Bit of respite from whats been going on at home?"

Arthur looked blank. "Respite?"

"When are you going to stop lying, Arthur? Stop covering up for him? Stop pretending he doesn't hurt you? Stop pretending that he's got a violent temper, and no restraint?"

"Who? The new mark?"

"Arthur!" Cobb's voice jumped slightly; he brought it back to a lower octave. "I'm talking about Eames! Don't you remember what happened at the restaurant a couple of days ago?"

Arthur did. The team had gone out for a meal, and Eames had sat silently throughout. Arthur had chatted, albeit with restraint, but as soon as they had got home, he'd received a punch to the kidneys. When he'd asked why, through tears, The Forger had shrugged. "Because you ignored me. I guess you find me boring. Shame you don't realise they only talk to you to humour you."

"So he was bit quiet…"

"Quiet? How about sullen, and angry? Plus, I saw the way he looked at you." Cobb's face was intense. "He abuses you, Arthur. He'll never hit your face – that's too obvious. But I bet he hits you everywhere else."

"No, he doesn't."

"OK. Prove it. Take off your shirt."

"Cobb!" Arthur felt his own temper beginning to rise. "I'm not going to! I am not going to stand here and listen to you accuse my boyfriend of-"

"Is there a problem?"

Both men looked up. Eames was standing in the doorway. Although he was smiling, there was a hint of menace in his smile. "Is Artie slacking Cobb?"

Cobb swallowed. "For your information, Eames, Arthur has never slacked in his life. Wish I could say the same about you." Turning, the Extractor stalked back towards the main room of the warehouse.

Eames walked towards the Point Man. "Oh, displaying the bruises, were you Artie?"

Arthur took a step back. "No. I had my sleeves rolled up, and he saw-"

"He saw nothing." Eames grabbed one of Arthur's wrists, and gave it a hard twist. The Point Man flinched with pain.

"Don't ever tell him," the Forger continued smoothly. "Or you could find yourself in a very difficult position."

Arthur began to shake.

"Oh, Artie," Eames looked down. A slight wet patch was spreading across Arthur's groin. "I think you've made a mess."

Arthur ran a hand through his hair. The morning sunlight was warming the back of his neck, and it was easy to forget, temporarily, the situation. He looked at the trees, wishing that he could just get away.

And then a thought flashed into his head: why didn't he?

With a renewed sense of determination, he walked back into the house. Eames was standing in the hallway, holding a black suitcase.

"Ready to go?"

"Yep." The two men walked to Arthur's silver BMW. Eames silently loaded his case into the trunk.

The drive was conducted in silence, the atmosphere tense. When they got to the airport, Eames headed straight for check in. His case went straight through, his passport approved. After he'd collected his boarding pass, he headed to where Arthur was waiting.

"Right, I'll see you in a couple of weeks, Artie."

Arthur nodded mutely.

"Don't work too hard."

"Trust me darling, I won't. Oh, and Artie-"

Arthur swallowed. "Yes, Eames?"

"Don't get any funny ideas about leaving whilst I'm abroad, will you? I know you won't – I know your face is worth a lot to you – but just in case you did, your passport and credit cards are in my case. Which is now being stowed in the plane."

Dumbstruck, the Point Man looked at him. A smirk was spreading across Eames' face. He leaned forward and whispered in the younger man's ear:

"I think the word is trapped, Artie."

Tears filling his eyes, Arthur watched his lover turn and walk to security. Standing in an airport terminal of over half a million people, he felt completely alone.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews very much appreciated, thank you!**

Arthur sat at his desk, as though in a daze. He had driven straight to work from the airport, as if on autopilot. He could still barely comprehend that Eames had left for Mombasa, taking his passport and credit cards with him.

No way out. No currency. No identity.

Arthur had never felt so helpless in his life. In a dream, he knew that he would wake up, but this was a nightmare that seemed to have no end, no reason, and no point. Eames simply enjoyed tormenting him, like a child who delighted in pulling the wings of a butterfly.

Arthur tried to focus on his work, but his eyes kept shifting towards his BlackBerry. He knew it was only a matter of time before a message flashed through. Even with Eames on the other side of the planet, he would still find ways to goad him.

As if on cue, the BlackBerry lit up. Arthur grabbed it and clicked "read".

_Looking forward to two weeks of poverty? Never mind pet, there's some dry bread in the cupboard!__ Try not to eat it all at once. E xxx_

Arthur switched the BlackBerry off and practically threw it across the room. He knew he could ask Cobb for some help, but that would require explanations. And Arthur also knew that like a dam, as soon as he told the Extractor about this, the whole story would come rushing out.

Ariadne approached. "Arthur, we're thinking of getting pizza in tonight so we can finish this. Do you want to join us?"

"Um…" the Point Man paused. Spending an evening with Cobb, Ariadne and Yusuf, eating pizza and sharing frustrations about the current job sounded heavenly. But he had hardly any cash in his wallet, and could not use the ATM.

"No, I don't think so, but thank you."

"Arthur!" The Architect looked as though she were about to cry. "You're so thin now! You need to eat! I don't think you take care of yourself, and-"

"Did I ask for your opinion?" The words came out as an angry bark, and Ariadne flinched.

"No, but I can't help if I'm worr-"

Arthur had heard enough. Getting up, he pushed past her and headed for the bathroom. Locking himself inside a cubicle, he slowly sank onto the toilet seat and began to sob.

"Arthur!" Cobb's voice erupted from the other side of the door, accompanied by loud banging. "Arthur, open the door, come out here, and talk to me. You know you have to!"

"Leave me alone, Cobb!" Arthur choked out. Tears were practically blinding him. "I don't have to tell you anything!"

"Oh, right, so I'll just assume that you mean to be an asshole? That you think being a bastard to Ariadne is going to help you?"

"You know that's not true!"

"Then get out here and prove it!"

Arthur pulled tissue out of the dispenser, blew his nose, and disposed of it. He then unlocked the door, and yanked it open.

Cobb was astonished. His normally controlled, cool headed Point Man looked a wreck. His shirt and vest were splattered with tear stains, his hair was mussed, and his face was blotchy. Seeing Cobb made tears well up again.

Silently, Cobb held out one arm, and drew Arthur into his. As the Extractor's arms encircled and pulled him close, Arthur broke into heaving sobs. Standing two inches shorter than Cobb, he rested his head on his shoulder.

"Arthur, sshhh, it'll be ok, I promise." Cobb rubbed the Point Man's back. "Whatever it is, we can deal with it."

Arthur drew back. "Really? You reckon?"

Cobb smiled wryly. "Arthur. We have been killed, shot, buried in landslides, dealt with murderers, drug overlords, and egomaniacal magnates. I don't think there is anything I can't handle."

Arthur snuffled back a few tears. "You make think differently when you here this."

Cobb's hands dropped to his side. "What is it?"

"Eames has gone to Mombasa…"

"Yes, to follow up a couple of old leads."

"…And took my passport and credit cards with him."

Cobb couldn't believe what he was hearing. "He _what?"_

Arthur smiled sadly. "He's gone, Cobb. To Mombasa. Taking my passport and my access to money. Without my passport, I can't even make a cash withdrawal from a bank."

"But-" the Extractor could barely comprehend what he was being told. "Why?"

"So I don't leave. He knows that I would never ask you or the others for money; he knows I considered using him going abroad as a chance to escape. He's trapped me, Cobb. And when he comes back, it'll get worse."

"Gets worse?" Cobb stared at the Point Man. "How can it get worse, Arthur? How can it possibly get worse? He beats you, he insults you, he's destroying your self-confidence and your life. And you take it. What if it were Ariadne who this was happening to? What if it were me who had been doing it to Mal? You would have stepped in. But you're letting Eames do this. Why?"

Arthur's self-control finally snapped.

"Because I'm scared!" It came out as a high pitched wail. "I'm scared, Cobb! I'm scared that if I leave him, no-one else will ever want me! I'm scared that he'll never let me go! Eames can be a bastard, but I was lonely before we met, and he seemed so perfect!"

Cobb's mouth tightened into a thin line. "Arthur. We are going to the bank right now. You still have your driving license; I can verify for you as I am your employer. We will get you your money, and then we will get you somewhere safe."

"Its dangerous."

Cobb leaned in and spoke carefully.

"Staying with him is dangerous. How long is it before he kills you?"

And when he saw the flicker of genuine terror in the Point Man's eyes, Cobb realised that it would not be long.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Standing in line at the bank, Arthur felt tense. Sweat was starting to bead on his forehead. Cobb smiled at him, reassuringly.

"It'll be OK."

Arthur swallowed. The woman at the far end of the counter put her documents in her purse and turned to leave. The teller gestured to Cobb and Arthur.

The two men approached the counter.

"How may I help you?"

Arthur cleared his throat, and tried to look composed. "I'd like to withdraw $500 from my account please. Here is my driving license as proof of identity."

The teller looked slightly surprised, but she reached and took the passport. She turned to check the computer.

Cobb smiled at Arthur. "It'll be ok."

The teller paused in her clicking of the keys, and frowned slightly. She turned to Arthur, a worried expression forming on her face.

"I'm sorry, but you can't withdraw $500, sir. There are insufficient funds in your account."

Arthur blinked. "What?"

"Insufficient?" Cobb spoke up. "How do you mean?"

The teller looked embarrassed. "I mean its empty."

"Empty?" Arthur clutched the edge of the counter and leaned forward. "It can't be. There was nearly a $100,000 in there!"

"I'm sorry, Sir," the teller spoke firmly, "but there is no money in your account. We will try and trace it, but it could take up to three working days."

Arthur paled. "He stole it." His voice was barely a whisper.

Cobb leaned forward. "Thank you." Taking Arthur gently by the elbow, he led him out of the bank.

Outside, Arthur turned to Cobb, his face distraught.

"He's stolen my money, Cobb. I have no credit, no cash. I'm completely trapped. He's engineered it so I can't leave."

Cobb's jaw was set. "Arthur. Calm down. There is a way."

Arthur's eyes were filled with tears. "No there isn't Cobb. There isn't." Turning, he walked away from the Extractor, leaving him staring helplessly after him.

Arthur barely remembered how he got home. Tears kept threatening to spill out of his eyes, and he nearly ran into a Pontiac at an junction. When he finally got back, he sat in the car seat for what seemed like hours. Eventually, he dragged himself inside. Twilight was starting to creep in, the sky turning from azure to indigo, with washes of soft peach.

He entered the living room, collapsing in a chair. His stomach knawed, and he realised he should eat something. Just as he was about to get up to move to the kitchen, the phone rang.

He picked it up. "'Lo?"

"Hello darling," the voice at the other end oozed out of the receiver, as soft and supple as a snake. "Did you go to the bank today, by any chance?"

Arthur immediately tensed. "Eames? You stole my-"

"No, no pet," the voice said, silkily. "I didn't steal. I moved it. I moved it for your own good."

"My own good?"

"You can't be trusted with money, Artie. You'd only spend it. On something like a nice new suit…to wear when your playmate comes to visit you, hmmm?"

"Eames." Arthur's voice was breaking. "You know that there is nothing going on. You know that you can trust me-"

"I'd love to think that, darling. I'd love to think I could trust you. But you make it so hard for me. You are such a flirt, such an attention seeker. I've seen the way you smile at Cobb. The way you look at Ariadne. But, I don't think either of them would ever want you. Not when they find out what a pathetic, weak, empty person you are."

"This is insane." Arthur's grip on the phone tightened. "You know that I don't go for women. You know that Cobb – well, lets say I'm the wrong sex for him. But you think I want to –"

"Fuck them," the voice continued. "Because, lets face it Arthur, you don't ever seem to want to do it with me."

"Eames." Arthur could feel his anger beginning to build. "The last time we tried to be intimate, you accidentally mashed my leg. I told you, you punched me. Funny, but something like that does put me off sex."

Eames laughed. An unpleasant, throaty sound.

"And we both know that was your fault, Artie. You blame me for the fact you're thin. You blame me for the fact you're frigid. Or is it impotent?"

"What do you want from me, Eames?" Arthur couldn't hold back the tears any longer.

"Oh, are you crying again?" Eames sighed. "You are such a crybaby. Where you the skinny little weakling in High School that all the jocks picked on? I bet you were. And here was I thinking you were interested in me because you wanted a real man. And you can't handle it."

"A real man?" Anger broke through Arthur's tears. "A real man? You think you're a real man? You hurt me, you-"

"Its all for your own good." The voice continued, dripping venom into Arthur's ear. "I'm trying to stop you from being so pathetic, so weak. I'm sure Cobb finds you as irritating as I do. I love you Artie, I love you and I'm trying to help you. Its all for your own good. And when I return, I expect you to treat me with the courtesy that I deserve. Being your boyfriend is a very hard job, and your tears and tantrums are very hard to deal with."

Arthur started to shake.

"Oh, and another thing. Don't even think of telling Cobb the real reason for those bruises. If you do, you will regret it for the rest of your life. You can't leave me, Artie. No-one else would want you. I may not be perfect, but I'm all you're ever going to have."

The phone went dead. Arthur placed the receiver in the cradle. Then curled up in the chair and burst into tears.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Arthur lay in bed. His eyes were swollen, and his head throbbed with a dull ache. He vaguely remembered going to bed, but he had hardly slept. The red numbers on the digital clock had drifted in front of his vision all night, and by 5am, he was still awake.

At 6, he gave up. Swinging his legs round the bed, he placed his elbows on his knees, and his head in his hands.

After a few minutes, he got up, and walked, barefooted and only in pyjama bottoms, to the kitchen. He filled a cup with water and put it in the microwave to heat, not even bothering to fill the kettle.

The microwave pinged. He put a spoonful of instant coffee granules in, and stirred. Normally he would make fresh, but he couldn't see the point. Couldn't see the value in making the effort. He picked up the cup, and wandered into the living room. Curling up on the couch, he lifted the cup and began to sip at the hot liquid.

He had no idea how long he was there. He fell into a reverie of flashbacks. The first date, where he and Eames had admitted that their sarcastic banter hid a mutual attraction. How they'd gone back to Eames' place, and ended up kissing like teenagers on the bed. How they'd told the rest of the team, and how the genuine surprise on Cobb and Ariadne's faces had been eclipsed by delight. How they had walked down the street holding hands, and attracted looks from passers by, ranging from lust to outright disapproval. How Eames had finally asked Arthur if he felt prepared to make a more solid commitment, by getting a property together. The moving in day, where Cobb had good naturedly complained that they had destroyed his back. How they had celebrated their first night in their own place through a shared shower and champagne at midnight.

And then it had all changed.

It had been barely perceptible at first. The little loving glances and touches from Eames had cooled, as had the compliments. Then, the accusations had begun. How Arthur spent too much time at work; too much time with Cobb; too much time with Ariadne. How he came back too late and disturbed Eames. How he never wanted to go out; never wanted to have any fun. How he was too whiny, too whingy, too annoying.

The first fight had come over the dishes. Dinner together had been pleasant, if a little silent. Arthur had suggested Eames wash the dishes, and he dry. The Forger had agreed. Upon being handed a plate, Arthur had pointed out that some rice was stick stuck to it. Eames had blown up, accusing the Point Man of considering him to be a servant, and that if he was that unhappy, he could wash them by himself. Arthur had tried to protest, but Eames had lashed out, punching him in the abdomen.

Arthur had been too shocked to retaliate. As if realising what he'd done, the Forger gasped, and took a step back. His eyes had filled with tears, and he'd begged for Arthur's forgiveness. Stunned, Arthur had conceded. He'd spent the rest of the night curled up in Eames' arms, letting him whisper how beautiful he was, and the best thing that had ever happened to him. Arthur had felt the Forger's blunt fingers stroke his back, and the sex that night was amongst the best he'd ever had.

Arthur felt that the incident could be safely relegated to the "happens and don't think about it again" file.

Except it couldn't. A few days later, Eames had suggested they go out, to a bar. The Point Man had agreed. Upon arriving, Eames had gone to find a table, and Arthur had gone to buy drinks. A young man had stood next to him – blonde, hazel eyes, attractive. He'd made eye contact with Arthur, and smiled. He'd then asked if he could buy Arthur a drink, but pulled away, embarrassed, when Arthur indicated the ring on his left hand – a sign of his commitment. He'd apologised profusely, told the Point Man his partner was a lucky guy, and retreated. Arthur had picked up the glasses and found Eames, but he could see that the expression of the Forger was sour, and the atmosphere between them became tense.

Eames had not spoken a word on the journey home.

As soon as they had got home, he erupted. He accused Arthur of flirting, or giving the other guy "the come on." He accused Arthur of not being interested in him, of finding him too old, too ugly. He told Arthur that if he really wanted someone else, he could just fuck off, and take his stuff with him, it would be no great loss. He then followed the outburst with a punch, aimed squarely at Arthur's rib cage. Arthur had staggered backwards, and lost his balance.

Seeing him sprawled on the floor had hit Eames' conscience. He'd gone straight to the Point Man's side, whispering apologies laced with words of love, and tears had welled in his eyes. Choking, Arthur had looked at the face of his lover, wondering how someone who claimed to love him could do this. His question was answered as Eames pulled him close, stating again how Arthur was the best thing in his life, the only thing that gave his life any meaning, and he couldn't bear the thought of someone else taking something so precious to him. Arthur was in too much pain to speak, but simply sat, allowing the Forger to trace his hands over him, sinking into an embrace.

The third time had been due to an incident at work. Arthur had volunteered for the coffee run, but Eames had gone out, so he'd had no idea if he wanted his usual Americano. When he returned from Starbucks, Eames was back, and glowered slightly as Cobb received his cappuccino and Ariadne her Mocha. Arthur had asked if Eames wanted him to go out again, but Eames had told him not to be silly.

That night, he'd revealed his true feelings. He'd told Arthur that he clearly put Cobb and Ariadne before him, that he couldn't even be bothered to ring Eames on his cellphone to find out if he'd wanted coffee as well. Eames felt he couldn't continue to live with Arthur and his selfishness, and being made to feel bottom of the pile. Arthur had tried to protest, telling Eames it was ridiculous he was so upset over a cup of coffee…but Eames had then accused him of claiming his needs were ridiculous, and he'd punched him. In the kidneys.

This time, there had been no apology. Eames had simply curled his lip, and walked away.

Arthur felt tears beginning to brim again. He felt trapped, and tormented. His hand was shaking, and he decided to put the coffee cup down.

A loud bang on the door made him jump.

"Arthur? ARTHUR!"

Swallowing, Arthur got up, and started moving towards the door. Through the frosted pane, he saw an outline that wasn't Cobb. Puzzled, he unlatched the door and pulled it open.

He was confronted by Miles. The older man's face creased from fatherly concern to outright horror as he saw the bruising on Arthur's torso. He took a step forward.

"Hello, Son," he said, simply. "I think its time you came to visit me, don't you?"


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All reviews and readers appreciated!**

Arthur stood in the doorway. Cobb's father-in-law was the last person he'd expected to see.

"Miles," he said, dully. His head was beginning to pound. "How come you…why…" Arthur felt he had no energy left with which to finish the questions.

"First things first," Miles said calmly. "Where's the kettle?"

Arthur smiled. "Its this way. Follow me."

Miles entered, peeling his long black trenchcoat off as he entered. "No, you go and sit down, Arthur. I'll make it." Throwing his coat over his shoulder, he walked towards the kitchen.

Arthur sank down slowly onto a stool, watching as Miles filled the kettle, opened the cupboard and pulled out two mugs, and opened the fridge for milk. He then started looking through the shelves.

"Tell you what," Miles voice was muffled slightly, "why don't you go and have a shower and shave, and I'll get us some breakfast?"

"Miles, you don't have to- I mean-"

"Arthur." Miles spoke kindly, but firmly. "Shower. Now."

Arthur acquiesced, heading upstairs. Pulling a towel out of the linen closet he trudged to the bathroom. Shutting the door, he turned the shower faucet on full blast.

As he got out, and opened the door, the tantalising smell of bacon rose up to greet him. Heading into the bedroom, he dressed in black sweatpants and a plain dark green t-shirt. Running a comb through his hair, he headed downstairs to the kitchen.

"Hey."

Miles looked up from where he was deftly frying bacon in a pan. "Well well. You were gone for over half an hour. I was beginning to think you'd gone down the plug hole. Wouldn't surprise me if you had, the size of you."

Arthur smiled, tiredly. "Its been a busy time."

,Miles raised his eyebrows. "I'll say." He pulled two slices of toast out from under the grill, and proceeded to sandwich the rashers of bacon in between them. He slid the plate towards Arthur. "Eat."

Arthur did. When half the sandwich was gone, and Miles was calmly stirring coffee, he felt able to ask him.

"Why are you here, Miles? I thought you were in Paris."

"Well, it's a funny thing. When my son-in-law calls, to tell me that his best friend – his best friend to both him and my daughter – is in some trouble, and he'll deal with the office if I deal with the domestic, I tend to come over."

Arthur chewed another mouthful and swallowed. "Miles, you didn't have to. I mean, I'm not family-"

"Yes, you are." Miles interrupted, firmly. "You're Cobb's best friend. You're the godfather to his and Mal's children – my grandchildren. You've always been there for Cobb, now its time we were here for you. Whats going on Arthur? And trust me when I say, I'm not going to be bloody fobbed off."

Despite himself, Arthur smiled. Despite having been married to an American and lived in the States and France for the best part of thirty years, Miles was still reassuringly English.

Arthur took a swallow of coffee. "I'm just having a – small domestic problem."

Miles raised his eyebrows. "A small domestic problem? I said I wasn't going to be fobbed off, and I mean it. Who gave you those bruises, Arthur? Was it Eames?"

Arthur blanched. "Well, maybe some of them."

"Maybe some of them? Your torso is a mess. The bruising is quite extensive, and I think I need to get you to a hospital. You could have some internal damage."

"I doubt its that serious."

"Arthur." Miles spoke very quietly. "Cobb was worried enough to call me. Cobb never calls me about things like this unless he's genuinely worried."

"Eames and I are – " Arthur swallowed. "We're just going through a rough patch. Lots of work, lots of stress. I mean, two people who work and live together can get a little tired of one another's company."

Miles sat back in his chair. "Tired enough that he hits you?"

"Only when I-"

"When you what, Arthur?"

"When I annoy him."

"Does he get annoyed easily? Lose his temper?"

Arthur swallowed. Tears were prickling at his eyes. "Its only when I upset him, Miles."

Miles leaned back. "Arthur. Go and get some boots. I'm taking you to hospital."

Arthur acquiesced, and left the table. Miles rubbed his face. This was going to be harder than he imagined.

The drive to the hospital was quiet. Miles was a careful driver, not taking his eyes off the road. At the local hospital, a young receptionist listened sympathetically, and showed them to a seat. Arthur kept his eyes on the floor.

"Mr Richards?"

A young doctor was standing in front of him. Female and tall, she had a kind face.

"Would you like to follow me please?"

Arthur got up, and walked with her to a cubicle. "Please sit up here." She patted the bed. Arthur jumped up.

"Right, Mr Richards – would you remove your shirt please?"

Blushing, the Point Man did so. As she looked at his torso, he heard her suck her breath in through her teeth.

"OK." She took a step towards him. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to – feel your chest. If anything hurts, you need to tell me."

She began feeling along the collarbones. Arthur felt no discomfort, until she began to move down to the ribs. When she touched his left side, he winced.

"Does that hurt?" She asked gently.

"Yes."

"It may be cracked."

Arthur was stunned. A cracked rib? She persisted, her hands both gentle and knowing.

"The bruising along your abdomen is bad. You may have an enlarged spleen. I would say your easily ten lbs underweight for your height." She drew back. "Mr Richards, you are really not in good health. Would give me an indication as to why?"

Arthur licked his top lip. "I do quite a physical job. I think I've taken a bit of a bruising."

She looked unconvinced, but didn't press him.

"OK. Put your shirt back on. Its time to get that rib x-rayed."

Arthur picked up the t-shirt, wondering what he'd done to deserve this.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

The sunset was magnificient – peach and violet shot through with touches of crimson. As the ice melted in his scotch, Eames sat on the balcony of his hotel and watched it, paying no attention to the bustling street life below.

He put a hand in his pocket, and stroked his black cellphone. He would call Arthur later. Leaning back in his chair, crossing his legs, he tapped ash off of his cigarette, and smiled.

He knew Arthur wouldn't tell Cobb anything. Arthur was so insecure, so afraid of being left, that he wouldn't do anything to risk Eames leaving. Cobb wouldn't understand how difficult Arthur was, how demanding – he saw him as the trustworthy, reliable Point Man. Eames knew him better than Cobb, he was sure of that. He knew Arthur better than anyone.

Eames had had an inkling of how difficult Arthur would be shortly after they'd moved in together. He'd been washing up, and Arthur had made a fuss of a few grains of rice stuck to a plate, insisting Eames re-wash it. Eames felt Arthur was being unnecessarily picky – the plate was clean, who cared if a few bits of rice were stuck to it? But Arthur had continued, his voice getting whinier and more annoying, until finally Eames had snapped.

He hadn't meant to punch him. Seeing the shock, and hurt in those large brown eyes had twisted his heart. But he knew he couldn't put up with this. Arthur was not going to whine and nag his own way with him.

He also realised that Arthur had a wandering eye shortly after they moved in. They had gone to a bar, at Eames' suggestion. That had meant sitting at a table whilst Arthur flirted with a handsome blonde – who was several years younger than Eames. Arthur had appeared completely astonished at how Eames thought he was flirting, and claimed he didn't want to leave Eames. Furious at discovering how Arthur was only with him for convenient sex, the Forger had lashed out.

This time, the Point Man's eyes had filled with tears, and ripples of remorse had washed over Eames as he saw them. But he was resolute. He was not going to let his partner make a fool of him in public, flirting with younger man whilst he sat in a corner.

The final straw had been an incident at work. Arthur was always claiming he was too busy to give Eames any attention at work – but not too busy to fetch coffee for Ariadne and Cobb from Starbucks. All he had to do was give Eames a quick call, but he couldn't be bothered to do that. Eames had let it go at the warehouse, but at home, he'd made his feelings known. He told Arthur that the way he kept putting others before him made him wonder if the relationship was even worth bothering with, and that if Arthur couldn't be bothered, neither could he. Arthur had then insulted him, calling him ridiculous. Eames stated that if this was how Arthur really felt, he could go – and punched him.

This time, he felt nothing. Seeing Arthur sprawled on the floor gave him an inkling of satisfaction that maybe the message was starting to sink in. He wasn't going to treat Eames like dirt; he wasn't going to whine like a spoiled child everytime Eames told him something he didn't like; he wasn't going to have it all his own way.

There were other things. The way he claimed Eames was too rough during sex; how he bruised him. Eames curled his lip. Arthur was so pathetic. It wasn't Eames fault he still had the body of an adolescent. How he wouldn't go to the gym to beef up. He'd tried hinting it, but Arthur had accused him of insulting him. Eames sighed and sucked on his cigarette. Arthur was just too sensitive. He took offence at everything the Forger said, and it was so tiresome.

Eames resented the way Arthur tried to treat him like a servant, expecting him to do his laundry. He seemed to think that because Eames' work hours were more erratic, he had more time. Eames felt himself bristle at how Arthur systematically tried to reduce him to something lower than he was. Without him, Arthur would just be a pathetic little thing. Eames gave him an air of glamour, of excitement. Arthur was a pure Surburban Simon in comparison to the Forger.

Eames stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray, and took a swig of Scotch. Taking Arthur's credit cards and passport would hopefully give him the message that he was not going to leave Eames, and could not even try. Eames knew he was the best thing that had ever happened to the Point Man. It wasn't his fault he was too whiny and ungrateful to accept it.

Smiling, he reached in his pocket, and pulled out his cellphone.


	14. Chapter 14

"So, what did the doctor say?"

Arthur had been silent on the drive back to the house. Miles had respected this, and not tried to start a conversation. As soon as they had got back, and Miles had settled him in an easy chair in the living room, he'd started the questions.

"I have a cracked rib. And my spleen isn't looking too good."

"Have they taped it?"

"Yes."

"Good. It'll hopefully start to heal." The older man shot Arthur a look. "Although it would heal a lot more quickly if you got away from him."

Arthur shuddered.

"Arthur." Miles sat down next to him. "You don't have to put up with this. Eames has no right to abuse you, no right to hurt you. You need to leave him."

"I-I can't."

"Why?"

"Eames is the only man whose ever loved me, Miles. The only man who has ever made me feel special." Arthur could feel tears beginning to brim again. Eames was right. He was just a pathetic crybaby.

Miles handed Arthur a tissue. "Oh, son," he said gently. "Have we got our work cut out with you."

Arthur's cellphone bleeped. Miles startled.

"Sorry," Arthur muttered. "Pulling it out of his pocket, he flipped it open. "Hello?"

"So, are you enjoying life without me?"

Arthur stiffened.

"I'm warning you, Artie," the voice continued, venom oozing from the receiver. "If I get home on Friday, and find that you've been entertaining, I'll be very upset. I know taking your money meant that you couldn't go anywhere, but its occurred that people can still visit you."

Miles looked at Arthur, hard.

"I think I know what the solution is, Artie. Its to make sure you don't have any friends. But then, I forgot, you _don't_ have any friends! Who in their right mind would want to know a pathetic little weakling like you?"

Miles lips thinned. "Give me that." He took the phone from Arthur's hand.

"Arthur?" The voice had a hardened edge to it. "Arthur, speak to me. I know you're there."

"Oh, hello Eames," Miles spoke lightly. "Its Miles here. I'm sure you remember me. Now you listen to me, you sick bastard. I took Arthur to the hospital this afternoon. He's got a cracked rib. Would you care to explain that? And the bruises on his torso?"

A harsh, bitter laugh erupted from the phone. Arthur winced.

"Oh, so you're there to look after him, are you Miles?" Eames was dismissive. "I really wouldn't believe anything Arthur says. Has he actually said I abuse him? I love him Miles, Arthur is the more important thing in the world to me. Why would I hurt him?"

Miles swallowed. With a sinking heart, Arthur realised that the Forger was trying to convince the older man of his innocence.

"He hasn't. But Cobb thinks-"

"Cobb doesn't live with him." Eames voice was cold. "Cobb knows nothing of our relationship. Truth is, Arthur's a bit of a dirty boy. Likes it rough. You know what these prim and proper little princes are like. Why, only just before I left he begged me to tie him to the bedpost and bang him to-"

Miles shut the phone. Arthur closed his eyes.

"So, " Miles turned to Arthur. "He claims you like it rough. Or is it just out of the bedroom, Arthur?"

Arthur's tears were spilling down his cheeks.

"I can't leave him, Miles."

"Yes you can, Arthur." Miles knelt down. "Its very easy. You go and pack a case, you take my arm, and we drive away. You come with me, to California. I'm on sabbatical at the moment, working on a project at UCLA.

Arthur shook his head. "No. I can't. I can't leave him. Without him, I'm nothing."

Miles, shell shocked, was silent.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me, all readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Cobb tapped his fingers on the desk. He knew calling Miles had been a gamble, but he felt if anyone could try and convince Arthur of the danger he was potentially in, it was his father-in-law.

He rubbed his face. This was one job he genuinely wished was a dream. He could cope with most problems his team had, but discovering his Point Man was being beaten by the Forger, whilst maintaining an image of domestic bliss, was one he didn't want to have.

Cobb shivered, despite the warmness of the room. He wished he'd been more adept in spotting the signs – the increased withdrawal of Arthur, the weight loss, the dark circles. It was no coincidence he'd started keeping his suit jacket on, and rarely took it off or rolled up his sleeves. Or the way he seemed to tense slightly when Eames approached him, smiling like a wolf who had just spotted a stray lamb in his path. Eames was relentless, Cobb knew that. Once he had something – or someone – he would never let them go.

His cellphone rang. Reaching across the desk, he snatched it up. "Hello, Dom Cobb."

"Hello Dom." Eames' voice was low and pulsed with menace. "Nice little job you did on me there, I must say."

Cobb sat bolt upright. "Eames? What?"

"I mean sending your father-in-law to babysit Arthur." Eames voice kept its low tone. "I'm sure Arthur really needs someone to warm his milk, read him a bedtime story, wipe his arse, pick his dummy up when he spits it out. And he does that frequently. Arthur is not an easy man to live with, Cobb. I'm sure you've picked up on that through working with him."

Cobb's hand clenched his cellphone hard.

"Miles isn't there to babysit – he's there to help-"

"Help with what?" Eames interrupted. "You have no bloody idea what he's like to live with. He flirts, invites people to stay – he's exhausting. I'm sure he gets on your nerves at times."

Cobb's heart began to pound. There was an element of truth in that – Arthur's meticulous, almost pernickety approach did irritate Cobb sometimes. But he would never hit him, Cobb was sure of that. Arthur could be an irritant. But Cobb still couldn't comprehend what Eames was doing.

"Arthur is the most important thing to me, Cobb," Eames tone had softened. "I love him, you can be assured of that. But I really don't appreciate you meddling in our domestic affairs. If you want me to keep forging, you'll leave my household alone."

"There are plenty of thieves, Eames." Cobb struggled to keep his temper. He wished the Forger was standing right in front of him.

"Yes, Cobb." Eames tone was almost taunting. "But you don't just need a thief – you need a forger. I'll see you in a few days. Along with all the information you need. This is a business trip, after all." A click, then silence.

Cobb heard footsteps. Arthur was entering the Warehouse. Dressed in a light grey suit, and freshly shaved, he looked more like himself than Cobb had seen in days.

"Arthur!" Cobb got up out of his seat. "Where's Miles?"

The Point Man checked his watch. "I believe he should be going through check-in about now. He flies back to LA in about two hours."

Cobb couldn't believe his ears. "Arthur, what the hell – I thought you'd go with him…?"

"Well, you thought wrong." Arthur spoke more tersely than he'd intended. He swallowed. He didn't want to alienate Cobb, but the stress was starting to get to him.

"Clearly." Cobb's anger was beginning to rise. He stood toe to toe, forcing the smaller man to take a step back. "Why are you doing this, Arthur? Why are you defending him? Why are you letting him control you like this? Is it the sex? Is he good in bed? Is he well hung? Is that it?"

"Fuck off." Arthur's temper flared, and he started walking away from the Extractor.

"You can't run, Arthur!" Cobb roared, all patience gone. "You can't hide! He'll come back, and things will get worse! He'll keep it doing it! And then you'll start to drink, and probably take pills, to help you block it out!"

Arthur turned ,real anger etched on his face. "You know I won't start doing that, of all the-"

"Oh really? In the same way we all thought Eames would never hit you? Take your credit cards, take your passport? Crack one of you ribs? Tell me Arthur, what is it that keeps you with him? What hold does he have?"

"He loves me!" Arthur practically screamed out the words, tears starting to course down his cheeks. "He loves me, Dom! Not many people have, but Eames does! He knows I'm difficult, but he loves me!"

Cobb took a step forward.

"No, Arthur." He spoke softly. "He just loves to hurt you."


	16. Chapter 16

Rubbing the two chips together, Eames stared intently at the table. He smiled, graciously, at the opponents before putting the chips down.

Win.

Clearing his section, the Forger got up and walked to the bar, ordering a bottle of beer. Mombasa offered him complete privacy, away from Arthur's neuroses. Lighting up a cigarette, Eames scanned the room.

The conversation with Cobb had irritated him. Despite making him promise not to tell, he knew Arthur had. The Point Man had no respect for him or the relationship, if he felt the need to make details of it so public.

He took a drag on the cigarette, letting the smoke burn into his lungs. He would deal with Arthur when he got back. At this point, any thought of the Point Man – his whining, his irritating obsessiveness, his scrawny body – made him want to retch. He wanted to blot any thoughts of Arthur out completely. Picking up his beer bottle, he scanned the crowded, nosiy bar, looking for a woman. A girl by a pool table, wielding her cue with not inconsiderable skill, caught Eames' eye. He moved in.

"Nice shot." He spoke casually.

She looked at him, and raised her eyebrows. Her skin was golden; her hair long. The look she gave him was not especially inviting.

"I suppose you think you can do better?" There was a challenge in her voice.

The Forger smiled, a predatory one. "Of course I can."

"I'm sorry Dom," Miles voice sounded distant over the phone line. "I tried my best, really I did."

Cobb's fingers gently relaxed around the received. "I know you did, Miles." He sighed.

"Dom. The only person who can make the decision to end the relationship is Arthur. Not you. Not me. And you and I both know Eames will fight him every step of the way."

"Yep." The Extractor felt tired, defeated.

"I'm sorry, son, I know that Arthur's your best friend. I consider him family. But this is his choice, not ours."

Cobb smiled, wryly. "You're right Miles. I just…I just need my Point Man back."

Miles spoke gently, kindly.

"You will son. Love to Ariadne, tell her I wish my current postgraduates had half her brains. Speak to you soon."

Cobb thanked Miles, and hung up. The buzzing from the receiver continued in his head, droning like an insect.

Leaning back, he picked up his glass of red wine, and took a swallow. Arthur's tears had been so eruptive, so painful, that Cobb had gently told him to leave for the rest of the day. He had conceded, leaving Cobb feeling shaken.

Cobb's anger towards Eames and frustration with Arthur was beginning to be compounded by a new sensation – guilt. He was beginning to run back all the uncomfortable confrontations he had witnessed between Arthur and Eames, and wondering why he hadn't had the courage to say something.

He remembered when they were profiling for an extraction. Arthur had made a comment – albeit jokingly – about how Eames would have to forge someone honest, which could prove difficult. Eames had taken the comment at the time with what Cobb had assumed was a good grace, but then, later, he'd noticed the two of them in a corridor. Eames had been leaning in, closely, and Arthur had looked slightly panicked. Then he'd noticed Eames had taken Arthur's wrist, and clamped his hand around it. At the time, Cobb had thought nothing of it.

Now he was facing the possibility that the Forger had hurt the Point Man right in front of him. And he had done nothing.

Cobb picked up his glass. He needed to help Arthur see sense, that Eames' behaviour wasn't normal for a relationship.

But how?

She purred as she nestled closer to him. Eames slung an arm around her shoulders, looked down, and smiled. A slow smile of gratified satisfaction.

She had been wonderful. Tight, athletic, and sucked on him like a pro. He compared her to Arthur – Arthur was always so timid, just lay there. He'd objected once to giving Eames head, claiming he didn't think oral sex was for him. Eames had merely struck him with one hand, and after that, Arthur had consented to all the oral sex he'd wanted.

He checked his watch. It would be the early hours at home, but he felt Arthur really should know that two could play at his game, and Eames would always win.

Smiling, he picked up his cellphone, and flipped it open. Going to speed dial, he pressed "1."

The phone rang six times before Arthur answered. "Hello?"

"Hello, darling," Eames spoke softly. "How are you?"

"Eames? I'm in bed, its 4am. What is it?"

"Oh, coincidence. I'm in bed too. And I'm not alone. She was quite something, Arthur. Rode me twice and came like an opera singer. Made me wonder – why don't you scream a bit louder? Rather than lying there waiting for the missionary position?"

A choking sound came from the receiver. Eames smiled and pressed on.

"Trust me, darling – two can cheat. You may be hoping for a good time with a college buddy, but remember, I can have a good time as well. And it doesn't matter which sex."

"I thought-" Arthur's words were barely audible.

"What, darling?"

"I thought I was enough for you-"

"Oh, you are. So you're going to prove it to me when I get back, aren't you? There's a good boy. Now go back to sleep. Love you."

Eames switched the phone off, and sank back onto the pillows. On the other side of the world, Arthur buried his face in his and sobbed.


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Arthur opened his swollen eyes. He had lain, staring at the ceiling, for two hours. He didn't want to leave the bed. Even though he had to relieve himself so badly he couldn't lie still.

The phone conversation kept circling in his mind, like a tape loop. He could still hear the sneer in Eames' voice, as he informed him that he'd just cheated. He could see the sadistic grin as he relayed it had been a woman – a total rejection of everything Arthur was. The taunt as to why he'd had to go to a woman to sexually satisfy himself.

Arthur closed his eyes. He could see Miles' face in his mind eye, trying to gently persuade him he should leave, go with him to LA for a while. He could see Cobb, the frustration and despair competing in his eyes. And he could see Eames. Grey eyes as cold and hard as flint, and a smile that whilst some saw as belonging to a sweet Cheshire cat, Arthur knew belonged to a shark.

He shivered, and pain pulsed through his protesting bladder. He dragged himself up, and plodded one foot in front of the other to get to the bathroom. Normally, Arthur was fastidious about hygiene, but today he didn't care if he missed or sprayed on the floor. He flushed, and made his way to the kitchen.

On his way, he felt his stomach growl. He idly thought he should eat something. Hunger was turning into a vague physical sensation, rather than something that gave him cause to think about food. He ran his hands over his torso – his stomach was almost concave, and he could feel the bottom of his ribs through the tape.

So skinny. So ugly. No wonder Eames had cheated on him. With a woman. A woman with curves and hips. All he had to come back to was a bony little boy. A boring, ugly, bony little boy.

Arthur felt tears threatening again. He blinked, and headed into the kitchen.

Everything looked different, misshaped. He went to the Espresso machine, then realised it would be too much effort. He reached for instant coffee, and spooning it into a mug felt like a challenge.

He poured boiling water onto it. Giving the mug a quick stir, he took it into the living room.

Arthur raised the mug to his lips, sipped, and nearly scalded his tongue. The pain brought tears that had threatened to break loose to the fore, and he started to sob. Sitting in the living room was bringing back memories of when things had been good – when they'd both got home from work and had had sex on the living room floor as neither could wait to get into the bedroom. When Eames had sat on the couch and let Arthur curl up in his arms, resting his head against the older man's solid, reassuring bulk. How they had done the dishes together and it had descended into a water fight.

Arthur had confided in Eames. He'd told him things he had never told anyone, not even Cobb. How he'd been caught kissing the captain of the Basketball team in High School, and gone in the next day to find "faggot" daubed across his locker in bright pink letters. How in college, he'd tried to join in jokey conversations about girls, only to insist a good sense of humour won out over large breasts. How he'd started going to gay bars, only to find one of his professors, a man he was sure was married with children there. He'd been fifteen years older than Arthur. The first man Arthur had slept with.

He'd thought Arthur was beautiful. He'd praised his leanness, his bone structure. After they'd had sex, he'd dropped Arthur from his course on Classical Civilisation, and never spoken to him again.

Arthur's eyes stung thinking about the memory.

Eames had told him he was gorgeous, had an amazing body. He'd complained about his tattoos and muscles made him look big and ungainly, how Arthur must be tired of being with such a heavy lump. Arthur had jokingly commented he could always try a diet – and had received a punch for it. Eames had then apologised, kissing where the punch had been, promising it would never happen again.

Arthur looked down at his thin hands. He hated them. He hated everything about himself. If he were taller, better looking, more muscular, more interesting, funnier, more easy going, Eames would be here, with him, rather than in Mombasa. If he were better at sex, more prepared to experiment, Eames would be in bed with him, practically drilling him into the mattress.

Arthur leaned forward. It was all his fault. He wasn't enough for Eames. Not good enough. He felt broken. And alone.

His cellphone rang.


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Arthur shivered. The cellphone kept bleeping, insisting he pick up, invading his space. He gulped, extended a hand, and flipped it open. "Hello?"

"Arthur? Its Ariadne."

Hearing the Architect's voice made Arthur sink into the couch in relief. He took a deep breath. "Ari, Hi. What can I do for you?"

She laughed, nervously. "Its, um, its half ten. Are you ok?"

Arthur blinked. He had no idea where the time had gone. He felt frozen, static, like a fly encased in amber. He swallowed.

"I'm – I had a bad night. I overslept."

"Oh." The Architect sounded surprised. "Well, do you think you'll be coming in today?"

The Point Man rubbed his forehead. "I don't know. I'm just so tired…"

She sounded nervous. "Arthur, we do have a big job coming up, I need you-"

"Well, you'll have to cope without me!" He snapped, then felt his face flush. He'd just snapped at Ariadne. Someone he thought he'd never snap at.

"OK." She sounded almost tearful. "I'll leave you alone." The line went dead.

Arthur sank back, wondering when everything started to spiral so badly. Eames' phone call had upset him to his core, and now he was taking it out on the Architect. He felt himself shrink, growing smaller, meaner, and more unpleasant. Eames was right. He was vile.

He closed his eyes.

There was a loud banging on the door. Hoping they would go, he stayed in his seat.

"ARTHUR!" A voice was shouting. "ARTHUR!"

He opened his eyes. Pushing himself up, he walked to the door. The pane of glass showed the outline of a man. He squinted. Swallowing hard, he put the door on the chain, and creaked it open.

"Arthur!" The voice was filled with relief. Standing in front of the door was Cobb. With Ariadne.

The Point Man unlatched the door and pulled it open.

"We thought we'd better come over." The Extractor's voice was kind. "Its late for you, and-"

He broke off. His eyes widened with shock.

The Point Man was standing in front of them, shirtless. His torso was a patchwork of bruising – blue, green, and indigo. A particularly vicious bruise was splayed across his collarbone, the result of Eames venting frustration when Arthur had arrived late home with no explanation. His ribs were beginning to cause ridges in his skin, and his face was red and blotchy with tears.

Ariadne's lip quivered. "I can't stand this!" She turned and ran back to Cobb's car.

Cobb took a step forward. "Arthur. You can't stay here."

Arthur looked at Cobb. "Do you want to come in?"

Cobb turned and looked back at the car. Ariadne was sitting in the passenger seat, sobbing.

"Yes."

In the kitchen, Cobb practically forced Arthur onto a stool, whilst he opened the Espresso maker. He filled a jug with water, whilst letting the Point Man compose himself. He opened the fridge, a worried look crossing his face when he saw how little food was inside.

"Don't say it."

"What?"

"You're not eating properly, you're not sleeping properly, you're letting us down-"

"I wasn't." Cobb slammed the fridge door after retrieving milk. "I am going to say that you do need to eat, and sleep, and get the hell away. If you really want to stay with him, Arthur, I can't stop you. But this can't continue."

Arthur was silent, staring at the counter.

"You're letting him reduce you, Arthur, you're letting him turn you into-"

"SHUT UP!" Cobb blinked. Arthur's voice and stance had changed completely – it was loud, wild, and pulsing with rage. "Shut up! Don't you dare give me all that pseudo-therapy bullshit, Cobb, don't you dare! Do you have any idea what its like to mocked because of who you chose to love? How hard its been? How finding Eames meant I finally felt like part of the human race, able to love and get it back? Do you have any idea how lonely, how isolating life can be?"

Cobb faced the Point Man. "Yes, I do." He spoke softly. "I'm a widower, remember?"

"Yes, you're a widower. But you don't exactly have a problem getting dates, do you? I did. Eames was the first guy who seemed to really like me, really value me, not just see me as this boring stick up his ass." His eyes glistened. "Our relationship is not perfect. But neither was yours and Mal's"

The Extractor paled, and then took a deep breath. When he opened his mouth to speak, it was ice cold and threatening.

"I'm going to forget what you just said. No, really, I am. But I'll tell you this, Arthur – if you ever compare my marriage to the sick, twisted, little playpen that Eames has you trapped in again, I swear I will punch you myself. For your information, I never hit Mal. Ever. If we disagreed on something, we talked it out like adults. She never constrained me, I never constrained her. I was never jealous of a guy who served her in a coffee shop. I never got upset if she left me on my own at a party. But that's because we were both functioning human beings. Christ knows what you and Eames are."

Arthur shook.

Cobb checked his watch. "I need to go and see if Ariadne's ok. And then I'm heading back to the warehouse. When you think you're capable, come in. Oh, and Arthur-"

"Yes?" It was practically a whisper.

"There are only so many times I can bail you out. Don't force me to walk away."

The Extractor turned and walked out. The slam of the door echoed through the house. Burying his head in his hands, Arthur closed his eyes.


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Cobb picked up the file he'd been unsuccessfully trying to read for half an hour. In a fit of annoyance, he threw it across the room.

It had been two days, and Arthur had not been to the Warehouse once. Cobb knew that he had to give Arthur space, but an ugly little voice at the back of his mind was insisting that he'd regret not going over.

The Extractor put his head in his hands. He'd handled many difficult, dangerous situations with aplomb. He'd negotiated himself out of many challenges. But this was one he felt he couldn't negotiate, could handle.

He put his totem on the desk and spun it. Nope. It was reality.

Arthur was huddled in a chair. He hadn't called Cobb, hadn't even emailed. He'd sat in the chair, for hours, watching shadows play across the walls as the light changed from daylight to twilight to night. He'd felt himself wilt with dehydration, until he finally stirred himself to fetch a glass of water. He'd looked at the cellphone, hoping it would ring. Then he wished it wouldn't.

He wished he would come back. So he could apologise. Say sorry for all the stupid, hurtful things he'd said and done, things that had made Eames hate him. Tell him he loved him. Tell him he needed him.

But he knew he wouldn't. Eames wouldn't come back. Without Eames, he was nothing. All he could see was an enormous rorscach blot, resembling all the loneliness he had to come.

It was later afternoon, and a deep, dappled peach light was starting to creep in and stain the walls. He got up, and walked into the kitchen.

He paused.

Going to the butcher's block, he stared at the block of knives. Long thin ones, short chunky ones. All sharp. All of which could slice through steak. They would easily slice through his flesh.

He pulled a small cutting knife out of the block, revolving it in his hands. The stainless steel flashed colours at him – cyan, magenta, yellow. He pressed it against his wrist, feeling the coldness. He walked back in the living room, and reached for the cellphone.

Opening it, he pressed Cobb's number.

Cobb had switched his cell off. He knew that he was playing a waiting game – Arthur might call, Arthur might not call – and by deliberately switching it off, he would make Arthur realise that he would have to come and talk to him. He opened the file, and turned to the first page.

"Hello, Cobb."

Cobb looked up, thunderstruck. Eames had just walked back into the warehouse. Two weeks in Mombasa had given him a tan, and there was something dangerous lurking in his eyes.

"Eames." Cobb's voice was cold.

"Friendly greeting, I must say." The Forger raised his eyebrows. "And here I was, thinking the information I'd got would be useful."

Cobb glared at him. "Have you seen Arthur yet?"

"Nope. Only just got off the plane. Thought he'd be here."

"Well, he isn't. And he hasn't been here for two days."

Eames gave Cobb a sceptical look. "Oh, he's in hiding is he? Of course he is. After telling you and Miles a load of lies, I'd want to keep my head down as well."

"They're not lies, Eames." Cobb was trying to keep his voice steady. He was the same height as the Forger, but Eames was broader, and as Cobb knew, far more aggressive.

"Oh, really?"

"I saw the bruises. On his torso."

"And you immediately think I gave them to him. Thanks, Dom, nice to see that you trust your friends. Arthur gets a bit bruised, and of course its because I hit him. You really like to jump to conclusions."

"Its not jumping to a conclusion."

"Cobb." Eames lent down and looked at the Extractor squarely. "Arthur is your best friend. I accept that. But he's also a whiny, pouting little precious who really never learned a few basic lessons in nursery school. He's highly strung, and likes his own way. I'm a tolerant man, Cobb, but even I have my limits. Would you have put up with your wife flirting with people in public? Or treating you like a servant?"

Cobb rose to his feet. His face was white with rage.

"You leave my marriage out of this." His voice had dropped an octave. "You hit Arthur. You hurt him. And you clearly did something in Mombasa."

"I did. I got very close with a source."

Cobb was speechless.

Eames smiled. "Cobb. He'll never leave me. I don't intend to leave him. End of."

The first cut stung. The second gave way to a dull ache.

The third produced blood.

Cobb picked his cellphone up. "I'm going to call Arthur, and warn him you're here. Warn him that he needs to leave."

Eames shrugged. "Do what you like. I always knew you were an interfering do-gooder."

Cobb switched his cellphone on. The voicemail symbol bleeped up. Puzzled, he pressed to listen to it.

"_Dom, its Arthur. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I can't live without him. I can't bear the thought of being alone for the rest of my life…you were always good to me…"_

Eyes wide with shock, Cobb snapped his phone shut. "Eames, you're coming with me."

"What?"

"We're going to your place. Now."

The knife slid out of his hand. Blood oozed and trickled down his wrist. Curling up on the floor, he started to shut his eyes.

The drive was silent. Cobb had refused to look or speak to the Forger. Upon arrival, he'd literally jumped out of the car.

"Arthur! ARTHUR!"

Eames pushed past the Extractor, and pulled out his keys. One swift turn, they were in the hall.

"Arthur!" Cobb's voice was tight with fear.

Then he saw him. Curled up on the floor, blood starting to form a small pool by his chest.

Cobb went straight to him. "Get an ambumlance Eames." His voice was barely croaking. "Or I swear I will shoot you."

Eames, his eyes expressionless, went for the phone.


	20. Chapter 20

**Inception does not belong to me. All reviews and readers appreciated, thank you!**

"Mr Cobb?"

The young male nurse approached him, his smile failing to conceal the concern on his face. "Mr Richards is comfortable. He'd like to see you."

Cobb swallowed. "Of course." Steeling himself, he followed the nurse into the secluded room. Arthur, his wrists bandaged, with an IV in his arm, was lying in bed, his face turned to the wall.

"I'll leave you two alone," the nurse said, tactfully. "There's a button on the wall if you need anything."

Arthur turned his head to face the Extractor. "Dom, I-"

"Save it." Cobb looked at him. "Arthur, this is insanity. If I hadn't got that message in time-" he shuddered. He'd seen Arthur die in dreams – he'd shot him in the head once himself. But this was reality. If he'd been half an hour, one hour, two hours later-

"Cobb, I'm sorry. I know it was a stupid thing to do."

"Why won't you talk to us?" Cobb leaned forward, intensity burning in his eyes. "Talk to me, talk to Miles, Ariadne if you can't approach me. Arthur, this relationship you have with Eames – its spiralling out of control. I want to be able to buy a new suit for your wedding, not for your funeral!"

Arthur looked at the ceiling. He swallowed.

"This is a suicide attempt, Arthur." Cobb tried to keep his voice level. "Do you know what this means? It means you could be declared legally incompetent. You could be considered unfit or not safe to work. You could-" His voice trailed off.

"I just felt – so desperate- I love him so much-"

"You love him so much you're prepared to kill yourself? Yeah, nice one. You're in a relationship where you're getting the shit beaten out of you, and driven to despair. I don't know how to help you Arthur. I can't tell you to leave him. But I'll help you if you do."

Cobb got up, and walked to the door. Tears were filling his eyes, and he tried to brush them away. Eames was standing in the corridor.

"Cobb-"

"Fuck you." Cobb spat the words out as though they tasted poisonous. "Don't even think of coming to the warehouse tomorrow, Eames. If I were you I'd book myself the first flight back to Mombasa. One way."

Eames shrugged. "Not your decision to make. I stay if he wants me to. And, lets face it, how many forgers are there who are prepared to put up with your and his bullshit?"

Smirking, the Forger turned and walked towards the door of Arthur's room. Cobb nearly spat with fury, but realised that Eames was still the recognised partner. He walked, rigidly, to the coffee machine. Putting a few coins into the slot, he withdrew the plastic cup of steaming liquid it deposited, and sipped it. Thank God for caffeine.

Arthur turned his head. His eyes widened as Eames approached.

"Hello, Darling." The Forger leaned over and kissed Arthur's forehead. "You are a silly boy. Playing with knives without proper adult supervision, were we? Well, its not too deep. You'll be out of here tomorrow. Home safe. With me." The Forger smiled.

Arthur opened his mouth but no sound came out.

"I have to hand it to you." Eames rummaged in his pocket, and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. "If you're trying to turn this relationship into a contest of who can be the most childish, you're winning by a mile. So I sleep with some girl in Mombasa – she was one of the best I've ever had, I confess - and you slit your wrists. Really, Artie, all you needed to do was pick up the phone and say 'Eames, I'm sorry, I'll give you head and let you fuck me into next week whenever you want.'"

Arthur closed his mouth. The Forger leaned close.

"You stupid, selfish, little shit. You had to do something to get everyone's attention, didn't you? Now I've got Cobb breathing down my neck, accusing me of driving you to it. When is he going to learn that you're so neurotic, so paranoid, so obsessed with trying to control our relationship, that you drive yourself to things like this? You're the one who orders me around like a bloody servant, the one who has to everything done a certain way. You are the most difficult man I've ever tried to have a relationship with. But I keep trying. Because someone has to save you from yourself, show you what your faults are, help you come to terms with them."

Tears were starting to well up in Arthur's eyes. Eames sat down, and crossed his legs.

"I know you love me, Artie." He spoke soothingly. "And I love you. Which is why we're going to try again. We're going to go home and you're going to try your hardest to make this relationship work. Which means that you stop trying to control me."

Dumbfounded, Arthur could only stare.

"The doctor says they want to try you on some anti-depressants. I reckon it's a good idea. It'll make you less anxious, less likely to interpret everything I do as wrong. Get you to eat properly as well. I am so bored with shagging what feels like a pre-pubescent."

Arthur opened his mouth. "Eames-"

"Yes, darling?"

"I told Cobb-"

Eames leaned over, and kissed him on the cheek. Arthur shuddered. "I know you did, darling. And I'll deal with you for that later. But until then, you get some sleep. Would you like me to tuck you in?"

Arthur shook his head.

"OK, pet," Eames smoothed the top blanket. "I'll see you tomorrow." He straightened up, and started walking towards the door.

As the door swung shut, Arthur closed his eyes and silently screamed.


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Arthur prodded listlessly at the bowl of oatmeal in front of him. It was sludgy, already solidifying in the bowl. He pushed the food tray away with a sigh of disgust. Everything he put in his mouth tasted ashen. Everything seemed to constrict his throat, and twist in his gut.

He leaned back in the pillows. The Psychiatric assessment was today, and he was dreading it. He hadn't meant to cut so deeply, or so far. He had just wanted to alleviate the pain he was feeling, try and distract himself from the horrors that were erupting in his life and mind.

He turned his face to the wall. Eames would be coming to see him later. He closed his eyes.

* * *

Cobb sorted through the items on the bed. He quickly unzipped his black flight bag, and loaded the items into it. Checking he had his passport, wallet, and ticket, he switched the light off in the bedroom, and walked to the door.

* * *

The door opened. Arthur turned his head. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw the Extractor walk towards him.

"Arthur." Cobb's voice was terse, businesslike – a tone Arthur had come to respect over the years. "Get up, and put this on." He opened the flight bag and pulled out a dove grey suit, complete with light blue shirt and tie.

The Point Man looked confused. "What?"

"We have a job to do." Cobb kept his tone deliberately emotionless, and calm. "There is a mark. Pharmaceutical whizzkid. Seems to have a killer idea for sedatives. Possibly half a million paycheck in it for us. But I need you to come with me. Now."

"Cobb-" Arthur sounded bewildered. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm in hosp-"

"Yes, and you're checking out. Now get up, and get dressed. I have a shaving kit in my bag, you can clean yourself up at the airport. I also have a brand new credit card and passport – we can go shopping once we get to Berlin."

"_Berlin?"_

"It's the capital of Germany. I assume you've heard of it," Cobb answered dryly. "You do speak German, after all."

Arthur looked annoyed. "Yes, I speak German-"

"Good. Because you'll be responsible for ordering the beers there. Now get up, and get dressed. We have check in in one hour."

"Dom." Arthur spoke quietly. "I have a psych assessment in two."

"You're not." Cobb spoke firmly. "There's nothing wrong with you, Arthur. Nothing wrong with you that some hard work won't fix, and a change of scene, and maybe a break in your relationship. And I don't mean your bones."

Arthur winced.

Cobb took a step forward. "If you stay here, they will consider you depressed, and suicidal. They'll give you pills. Pills you'll have to take. You'll start feeling even more helpless, and more out of control. He'll feed on it, and drag you even lower."

"But- he took my passport-"

"I know." Cobb spoke gently. "Which is why, for this trip, you're Trent Michael Palmer. It's the same name on the credit card. Which has a $3,000 limit."

Arthur took a deep breath.

"But what about Ariadne? He'll ask her-"

"Oh, she said good bye to me about half an hour ago. Miles called her, and said he could do with some help on a project out at UCLA. She took Yusuf, he's never been to California."

Arthur's mouth twisted.

"So – Eames has no idea where any of us-"

"Nope. And if he has any sense, he won't contact us to ask."

Arthur grabbed the suit. "I'm going to get changed. Out in ten."

Whilst Arthur was in the bathroom, Cobb quickly pulled the sheets up on the bed, and scooped up the few personal effects on the bedstand. Arthur emerged, and despite the suit being slightly too large – Cobb had underestimated the Point man's weight loss – he looked better than he had in weeks.

"OK, lets go." Cobb led, with Arthur following.

"I have to discharge myself," Arthur muttered. He went to the desk, and spoke to the nurse behind it. She passed a yellow sheet of paper to him. He scribbled his signature, and handed it back.

The two men left the hospital, walking to the taxi rank. Cobb hailed, and insisted Arthur sit in the front.

"Airport, please," Cobb spoke, and "quickly."

The car pulled away. As it left the curb, another taxi pulled up. A door opened, and out stepped Eames. Arthur cowered in the seat.

Cobb started. "Arthur! Its ok, he's not coming after us." He spoke soothingly. The driver raised his eyebrows, but didn't comment.

The drive to the airport was conducted in silence. Upon arrival, Cobb tossed the driver a twenty and hurried Arthur towards the check in desk. The Point Man was twitchy, looking over his shoulder.

"He doesn't know we're here."

Arthur fixed Cobb with a hard stare. "Cobb. Eames always knows. I don't know how to explain it. He'll never let me go."

Cobb's eyes turned hard. "We'll see about that." He handed his passport to the female attendant, who scanned it, smiled, and handed it back. Arthur fixed a smile on his face, and handed over his.

She looked at it, then at him, scanned it. Both Cobb and Arthur relaxed. Picking up their flight bags, they headed for Security and the Departure Gates.

As they approached security, Cobb turned to Arthur. "I need you to focus for the next few days, OK? We've a job to do."

Arthur nodded. "When we-"

"We'll deal." Cobb spoke reassuringly. "We'll deal."

The two men turned and headed to security. Arthur tried to keep his breathing steady. For the time being, he was safe.


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me, all readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

The cigarette curled into ash between his fingers, sending smoke semaphores into the air. Eames didn't notice; he barely blinked when a chunk of ash fell on the floor, causing the carpet to smoulder. He relaxed back in the chair, thinking over the events of the day.

He'd gone to the hospital. Upon approaching the reception desk, he'd smiled, used all his available charm on the nurse sitting behind the counter. She'd reciprocated, smiled, back, and then told him _I'm really sorry, Mr Richards discharged himself._

Eames hadn't heard her correctly. He'd looked at her as though she'd been talking some new foreign language.

She had repeated the phrase: _Mr Richards discharged himself._

_When?_ He had demaned to know.

She had looked embarrassed, and slightly unsettled. _Just now._

Eames had bolted from the desk and had ran to the entrance. He couldn't see any taxis pulling or driving away – he must have left the second Eames had arrived.

Eames walked back to the taxi rank, hailed a cab, and gone to the Warehouse.

Upon arriving, he'd realised how ominously empty it was. No Cobb. No Ariadne. No Yusuf.

No Arthur.

A slight trickle of suspicion was beginning to irritate within Eames. He went to Cobb's desk. Slowly and methodically, he started to pull open the drawers. There would be something. A tip off, a clue. Cobb was not as meticulous as he liked to think. He was slapdash when it came to paperwork – he left that tiresome little detail to Arthur.

And Arthur had been in hospital, and virtually incapable of leaving the house.

Eames focused, rifling through the drawers. He would find it. He always did.

* * *

Arthur chewed and swallowed. The bar was slightly noisy, but there was a cheerful vibe to it, a liveliness. Opposite him, Cobb got up, and headed to the bar.

The flight had been uneventful. Cobb had demanded his BlackBerry the minute they had been seated, switched it off, and refused to let him have it back. He had merely pulled a portfolio out of his case, and told Arthur to entertain himself with it. Cobb's own cellphone had also been switched off. He had shown this to the Point Man.

After arriving at Berlin – Schnonfeld airport, they had taken the S-Bahn to the eastern side of the city, to a small hotel. Cobb had explained that staying in the East was likely to attract less attention than staying in the West.

Arthur had understood why. The East was suffused with History. Buildings that looked as though they could crumble, large amounts of unused space. The hotel was small, and the receptionist hadn't batted an eyelid when they had offered their pseudonyms.

Cobb had insisted they go out to eat. A bar was found ten minutes' walk away. He'd let Arthur flaunt his impeccable German whilst ordering the meal. He returned from the bar, carrying two full beer glasses.

"Danke." Arthur picked his up.

Cobb raised his eyebrows. "Don't show off."

Arthur took a sip. "I'm not. Thank you."

"Its good to see you like this. You seem more…"

"What?"

"…yourself." Cobb finished.

Arthur paused. "Myself?"

"Yes. More…focused. More light hearted. I mean-" Cobb gestured to the Point Man's plate. "You actually ate what you ordered."

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Monitoring my diet, are you Cobb?"

"No. I'm just saying that away from the usual routine, you seem happier-"

"What you really mean is, I seem happier away from Eames." Arthur's grip tightened on the glass. "Cobb, Eames isn't the monster you seem to think he is, really-"

The Extractor's eyes narrowed. "No, of course he isn't. And you were in hospital with your wrists bandaged because he's such a loving guy. And you have bruising on your torso because you have such sensitive skin."

Arthur slammed the glass down. "Are we here to work, or are we here for you to criticise my relationship?" His face was beginning to harden.

"We're here to work." Cobb tried to keep his voice even. "You know that."

"No, I don't! All I know is that you turn up at the hospital, throw a suit at me, and demand I get up, and come with you. I looked through that portfolio Cobb, we don't even need to be here! We're not here in Berlin because of the Mark, or because of an Extraction. We're here so you could try and convince me to leave Eames!"

Cobb looked round. Arthur's voice was starting to rise, and the Extractor knew they would attract attention. "Keep your voice down," he hissed.

"Why should I?" Hurt and anger was beginning to surge through the Point Man; he felt as though he would explode. "You lied to me Cobb, blatantly lied. Oh, come with me, I need you for a job. I need you to do something for me. And yet, there's no clear idea of who the mark is, you haven't even specified what the idea is! You were planning to bring me here, get me drunk, and then try and convince me to finish with my partner. I've got to hand it to you Cobb, you're a lousy inceptor in reality!"

The Extractor blinked. This was going wrong. Arthur's face was red with anger, and his body was coiled.

"You know what?" Arthur stood up, throwing his napkin on top of his plate. "I don't know what to think anymore. Everyone seems to have an opinion of whats best for me with my relationship. Why don't you all try treating me like an adult for once?"

Cobb had heard enough.

"I'll treat you like an adult," he hissed, "when you wake up to yourself and accept reality! You live in some sick fantasy world!"

"Oh, I live in a sick fantasy?" Arthur sneered. "After what you did to Mal, Cobb, do you really-"

The Point Man reeled back. Cobb had punched him. Hard, fast, in the face.

Cobb felt sick. What had he done?

Several people at the bar were turning to look at the two Americans; the owner approached, a look of angry concern on his face. Arthur turned and rattled off a sentence of rapid fire German, which seemed to appease the man.

Cobb swallowed. "Arthur, I-"

"Save it, Cobb." The Point Man spoke quietly. He pulled out a handkerchief to mop at his bleeding nose. "Trust me. Eames has done worse."

With that, he picked up his jacket and headed for the door, leaving the Extractor to try and steady his pounding heart rate.


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Cobb leaned over the balcony rail outside his room, seeing the street life of Berlin with blind eyes. The noise of the whistling trams, people crowding outside the bars, and the thud of music barely penetrated his consciousness.

He still couldn't comprehend the events of the evening. Bringing Arthur to Berlin had been a start of trying to re-establish some normality in the Point Man's life, reminding him that he did have a purpose, and also value. Arthur's sense of self-worth seemed to be bound up in Eames, to the point where Cobb no longer clearly saw where Eames ended and Arthur began.

Eames. What was it about the Forger that exerted this magnetic hold? He was good looking, Cobb accepted that, and the British accent and suave charm certainly had men – and women – hooked. But there was a casual cruelty in Eames, a coldness, that the Extractor had picked up on in their first few meetings. He knew that if anyone expemplified the "love them and leave them" attitude, it was Eames. Which made it all the more surprising that he and Arthur had got together, and stayed together.

Cobb rubbed his face tiredly. He'd punched Arthur, and he'd walked out. The Extractor was trying to refrain from banging on Arthur's door, or trying to ring his cellphone, but he had a sickening feeling that the Point Man was planning on heading straight back to Eames.

The Extractor looked at the skyline, hearing the rattle and hum of the U-Bahn in the distance. What could he do?

* * *

Arthur had no idea where he was going. He'd picked up his jacket, tossed thirty Euros on the table, and just walked. He didn't care where. The Berlin nightlife was starting to wake, and various bars and clubs were beginning to come alive.

His BlackBerry was in his pocket. Pulling it out, he switched it back on. No messages, no emails.

Did Eames even care that he'd gone?

Eames folded the piece of paper up, and put it in his pocket with a smile. _Alexanderplatz._

He knew where that was. And by default, where they were as well.

Cobb picked up his cellphone. His hand was shaking slightly, but he decided that he had to make the call.

The phone rang, and then it switched to voicemail.

"_Hi. You've reached the voicemail of Arthur Richards. Please leave a message, I will get back to you."_

Cobb swallowed, and then began.

"Arthur, its Dom. I know you're angry with me – you have every right to be. But please believe me, I am only trying to help you. Don't leave Berlin, don't go back to him. Please come back to the hotel, and we'll talk. I'm sorry. I'm leaving this message at-" he checked his watch – "ten thirty pm."

Cobb sank onto his bed. For the first time in a long time, he felt defeated.

* * *

Berlin's nightlife was hypnotic. Arthur wandered as if in a daze. He'd taken the S-Bahn, and ended up in a part of the city he didn't recognise. He continued to walk.

A bar was situated on the other side of the street, its lights twinkling. He decided to go in.

The bartender was young, and attractive. Dark haired, and with strong clean features. He handed Arthur a menu. The Point Man looked at him, quizzically.

"Absinthe," he explained, smiling. Turning to another customer, he poured a jug of the thick, syrupy green liqueur.

Arthur found his voice. "A glass of Absinthe please," his German rolling off his tongue.

The bartender smiled. "Of course." Pouring a glass, he handed it to the American.

"Danke." Arthur picked it up, and walked to a table. Sitting down, he paused. He pulled his BlackBerry out of his pocket, and switched it on. When he saw the voicemail symbol skip across the screen his heart leapt. He pressed to listen to it.

Form Cobb. Arthur felt crushed. Not Eames. Nothing from Eames. No email, no message, no attempted phone call. Had he really seen him go into the hospital? Did he even care that he'd been there? Trying to swallow back tears, he put the BlackBerry back in his pocket.

Happier times were crowding into his memory, trying to blot out the less pleasant ones. Memories of how Eames had stroked his jaw, and whispered that he was beautiful, and held him as thought he were made of glass. Memories of how he'd said Arthur was the only thing in his life worth living for, and worth dying for. At the time, Arthur had dismissed it as being over-the-top.

He'd hurt Eames. He must have done. He remembered all the times he'd been condescending, or cut his ideas down. Eames must be carrying a magnitude of hurt due to Arthur's behaviour. He shivered.

His BlackBerry started to vibrate. He yanked it out of his pocket, not even bothering to check the caller id. "Hello?"

"Arthur? Hey. Its Dom."

"Hi."

"Look, I had no right to hit you. I know you won't believe me, but for what its worth-"

The Point Man swallowed. "Its ok, Cobb. I shouldn't have said what I did."

"No, it isn't." The Extractor sounded genuinely upset. "OK, I admit it. I did try and pull you out here on false pretences, but Arthur, I'm just so worried-"

"Cobb." Arthur spoke flatly. He felt too tired to speak, too tired to even consider discussing it. "I know what you're going to say. Lets just go home."

"Are you sure?" Cobb's voice sounded tense. "He'll be there, Arthur."

"I know. But…"

Arthur left the sentence dangling. Cobb decided not to try and argue.

"OK. I can get us flights for tomorrow morning. Please come back to the hotel." He clicked off.

Arthur took a swallow of Absinthe, and stood up. As he began to leave, his BlackBerry began to vibrate again. "Oh, for God's sake, Cobb," he grumbled. He pulled it out, and clicked. "Yes?"

"Oh, that's really friendly." The voice was malevolent.

Arthur felt his legs begin to buckle slightly. "Eames?"

"Who else? Nice little disappearing act you pulled this morning. The nurse thought I was insane. She didn't believe me when I told her I was your partner. Because, lets face it, someone's partner wouldn't disappear without telling them, would they?"

Arthur swallowed. "Eames, that wasn't me, it was-"

"Don't even try it." The voice was low. "Don't even try and claim something or other. Just come home. Come home to me, Artie. I miss you."

"Really?"

"Arthur. If you come home, I promise things will be better." Eames' sounded almost upset. "Please. Let me try. Let me try and make it up to you."

He clicked off. Arthur stood in the crowded bar, feeling cold and alone.


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Cobb looked at Arthur as they entered the airport. Throughout the flight back, the Extractor had been silent, his muted stance feeling like a constant reproach to the Point Man. As they approached Security, Cobb kept his back rigid.

As they left, Arthur turned to the Extractor. "Cobb, look-"

"Save it." Cobb's face was tense. "Just save it. You know what I think. You know what I've said. You know, deep down, I only took you to Berlin in your best interests. I was trying to help you, Arthur. Trying to give you some respite. But, no, he rings, and you immediately come running back like a puppy dog. And he'll kick you again, like a dog. Only this time, I don't think I'll be there for you. He drove you to-" Cobb swallowed, the scene on the kitchen floor flooding back. "But, as you'll remind me, you're an adult. You've made your bed Arthur. Shame its got Eames in it."

Cobb turned, and walked straight to the taxi rank. Getting into a car, he refused to even look in Arthur's direction.

Swallowing, the Point Man went for a cab. As soon as the cab approached the street, his stomach tightened. The cab drew up. Arthur checked his watch. 7pm. The house was dark.

Maybe Eames had gone away. Maybe he was still at work. His stomach started to relax. He paid the driver, and walked towards the door. Putting his key in the lock, he stiffened. Eames had sounded so…_sincere_ on the phone. Arthur decided he had to give him the chance.

As he opened the door, he blinked.

The hallway was glowing, with the light of ten candles. Ivory candles, letting a perfumed scent of jasmine into the air. As he walked down the hallway, and entered the lounge, more candles were present. As well as a slight aroma of burning. Burning Sweet and Sour chicken.

"Eames?" Arthur's voice sounded slightly faint. "Are you here?"

"Yes, Artie," that silky voice said. "I'm here."

Arthur's jaw slackened. Eames was wearing a black suit, with a dove grey open neck shirt. He was freshly shaved, and Arthur could smell the aftershave that he'd given him the previous Christmas. It was a strong, spicy scent, with undertones of fennel.

"Eames, this is-" Arthur was silenced by a deep kiss, that left him slightly breathless.

"I was getting worried," the Forger said, smoothly. "Dinner is ready. Do you want to leave your bag here."

Arthur put his flight bag on the hall floor, and allowed himself to be led into the dining room. Two places were laid, with candles on the table. Eames pulled out a chair. "Shall we?"

Arthur sat down. He was genuinely surprised when the Forger went back into the kitchen, to bring out a bowl of steaming rice, a pan of Sweet and Sour chicken, spring rolls, and mixed vegetables.

"It looks…really good." The Point Man tried to hide surprise.

The Forger shrugged. "Its amazing what you can do with some patience." He used his chopsticks to pick up a piece of chicken. "Here, try it. You really need it."

Arthur allowed himself to be fed. He allowed Eames to cup his hand during the meal, and stroke his arm. The food was delicious, complimented by a bottle of Merlot. Towards the end, Arthur was stroking Eames' arm in reciprocation.

"Artie," The Forger's voice was serious. "I am so…sorry. So sorry about what happened. I was a shit to you, I really was. I was angry, I was jealous. I couldn't bear the thought that you might …" his voice trailed off.

Arthur looked at Eames. A wave of genuine affection washed over him.

"Its just…" Eames clasped Arthur's hand. "I've never been with anyone like you before. Someone intelligent, someone classy. And I'm this rough Londoner who is basically a petty criminal. You deserve someone better, Artie, you really do. What I've done to you is unforgivable, and I deserve to be locked up for it. If you want that, I'm not going to stand in your way. If you'd met someone in Berlin, it would have served me right. But I know even if you did ,you'd never say, because you're a gentleman."

Arthur swallowed.

"Eames, things have been…rough", the Point Man finished. "But, if you're willing to give it another try, and, maybe not be so irrational…it could work?"

Eames smiled, a smile of gratitude and relief. He leaned over and kissed Arthur on the mouth.

"You are so generous, darling, you really are. A prince among men."

Arthur blushed.

They drank more wine. By eleven, Arthur was starting to yawn. "Time for bed?" The Forger said, suggestively.

Arthur smiled. "I'm not going to say no."

They walked up the stairs, after Eames had put out the candles, their arms wrapped around one another. As soon as they got into the bedroom, Arthur grabbed Eames, and kissed him.

"Oh, Artie," the Forger murmered. "Do you want to take control?"

Arthur nuzzled into his neck. "Mmm, bit jet lagged. You lead."

Eames began unbuttoning his shirt, then Arthur's. Before he knew it, the Point Man was in his boxers. He made his way to the bed, and lay on his back, stretching like a cat.

He watched his lover. The broad shoulders, the tattoos. The way the muscles in his upper back moved. He sighed, thinking of that body lying on top of his. He smiled.

"Something funny?"

He looked up. Eames was standing at the foot of the bed.

"I'm just thinking of-"

"What?" There was a teasing hint in Eames' voice. "What is it, Artie?"

"Of feeling you against me."

"Oh, Artie." Eames face softened. "I'm sure you are. So how about this, for starters?" Raising his left hand, he slapped Arthur across the face.

The Point Man gasped with shock. Before he could move, the Forger was on the bed, straddling him, his chest and head in parallel with his own.

"You are so…easy…to convince", he spoke through gritted teeth. "Did you really believe any of that downstairs? Did you? Because if you did, you're even more naïve, more stupid, more of a trusting fool than I thought! Here, lets even you up!"

He slapped the other side of Arthur's face. Tears sprang to the Point Man's eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry Precious, did that hurt?" Eames' voice was mocking. "I haven't even started yet! I still need to give you your homecoming gift!"

He roughly grabbed Arthur's shoulders, and rolled him onto his front. Arthur, with a sickening feeling of dread, knew what was about to happen.

"Eames –" he gasped the words. "please, don't do this-"

"Don't do what? Take you roughly? Give you the good seeing to that you're just begging for? Make sure you scream loudly, Artie – I fucking hate it when you just lie there!"

He put his fingers round the waistband of Arthur's boxers, and started to pull them down. "Oh, those hips," he whispered. "You really do have a fabulous body, Artie, you really do. And tonight its all mine."

"Please-" Arthur's voice was whisper.

"Oh, I missed you when you were in Berlin," Eames was running his fingers down Arthur's back. "I laid awake, thinking of all the young studs there you might be enjoying yourself with. Just as long as you didn't tell them that you were slashing your wrists a few days back!"

He pulled Arthur's boxers down to his knees. "Just relax," he whispered. "It'll be easier if you."

"Eames! DON'T!" Arthur suddenly found his voice. "Don't do this!"

"Do what?" Eames lowered his voice. "Have sex with my boyfriend? Again, its not my fault you're frigid!"

He lay on top of Arthur, kissed his neck, and within seconds, entered him. Arthur tensed, and then the sheer shock hit him.

Eames gasped in pleasure, and withdrew. He got up. The Point Man rolled onto his back, and looked at the Forger. Shock and horror was in his face.

"Eames, you just, you just-"

"Had sex." The Forger reached for his own boxers, and pulled them on, followed by his short. "I've got to run, Artie. I've got another engagement this evening. Oh, and I wouldn't ring and tell Cobb what happened this evening. Because he won't have any sympathy. I've no doubt he told you not to come back, not to leave Berlin, because he knew things wouldn't be any better. I've always hated Cobb, Artie. And do you want to know why? Its because he always saw right through me."

The Point Man, speechless, watched as Eames pulled on his shirt. As he disappeared, banging the front door, Arthur leaned over the edge of the bed, and vomited.


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

As he pulled his hand away from inbetween his legs, he felt warm, viscous liquid spread on his fingers. He pulled his hand up to the light. Blood.

His blood.

Arthur rolled over in bed, and pushed back the covers. A pool of blood had spread on the white cotton sheet, staining into the mattress. It was beginning to dry, but by the irritation of his skin, he knew it had been forming in the night.

He winced. His lower back hurt, and so did his anal muscles. His genitalia felt sore. He swung his legs to the side, and prepared to get out of bed. Shower. He needed a shower, to wash away the clinging remnants of last night. Then he would strip the bed of the sheets, and burn them. His lower abdomen felt painful, and he tried shifting his buttock muscles. A wave of pain rolled up his back, making him gasp.

The front door banged. He stiffened.

"Artie!"

That voice. It was bright, and cheerful. The door to the bedroom flew open, and Eames stood, framed.

"Morning."

Arthur couldn't find his voice. He looked at the Forger.

"Just been to pick up your prescription." Eames opened a white pharmacy bag, and produced a small plastic bottle. "The hospital clearly think you're somewhat unstable. Or maybe you're depressed. I have my own theories. Still, these should help sort you out." He tossed the bottle to Arthur, who managed to raise a hand to catch it.

He twisted it in his hand. Fluoexetine. 100mg.

"Apparently you have take two a day." Eames looked at Arthur, his eyes hard. "Probably best first thing in the morning."

Arthur found his voice. "I don't need pills, Eames."

"Oh, really?" Eames raised an eyebrow. "And you're in a position to say, are you?"

Arthur swallowed. "I'm not depressed Eames. I'm just-" he got up, and started to walk. A spasm of pain moved through his lower abdomen.

"You're just what?" Eames' eyes had narrowed. "Just an unstable waste of space whose only real talent is pissing everyone of! Yes, Arthur, everyone! Good of you to suddenly decide to end that job in Berlin, wasn't it? I bet Cobb really appreciates that. Not to mention you deciding to come back to me, I'm sure he really trusts your judgement for that as well!"

"I'm not unstable!" Arthur's voice was beginning to rise.

"Not unstable?" Eames raised his voice in retaliation. "You slashed your wrists, for fuck's sake! Cobb and I come in to find you bleeding over the floor! Are you seriously trying to tell me there's nothing wrong with you?"

"There was nothing wrong with me – " Arthur took a deep breath. "Until I started living with you."

Eames sighed, and rolled his eyes. "Oh, here we go. Again. Here we go with the tears, the accusations. Its your fault I'm like this." He cruelly mimicked Arthur's voice. "We've had this conversation dozens of times, Artie. Its not my fault you're a pompous, boring, stuck up, sexless wimp who spends all his time complaining or sulking or freezing me out. Yes, I know in dreams, you're brave. But its only in dreams, Artie. Only in dreams."

Arthur looked at Eames, his breathing was ragged. "I hate you." He choked the words out.

Eames shrugged. "I can handle that. You hate me, leave. But wait, where are you going to go? You can't get a job, aside from working for Cobb – five years on your CV are mysteriously blank. Your parents would probably be upset if they knew you'd been hiding our relationship from them. Cobb won't help you – I think you've broken the trust there. Face it, Artie, you've got nowhere to go. You could go to Miles – but where from after? You've got no-one but me. And you may hate me, but you also need me. You must do. Otherwise, why would you keep on coming back?"

Arthur, his face paling, was silent.

"You could have anyone Artie." Eames voice had lowered. "But you're with me, and you choose to stay with me. Surely, you must believe, on some level, that things will get better? That I'll change? Or is it your superiority complex, the idea of the Little Prince and his rough crim? Thought you could tame me, did you? Thought your impeccable manners and WASP pretence would rub off on the common Brit you barely tolerated? Maybe. You must get something out of this, otherwise, you wouldn't still be here. Now, be a good boy, and take your pills. You must be feeling quite fraught by now."

Arthur looked at the floor. Eames leaned over and kissed the top of his head.

"Now, I've got to go." He spoke briskly. "I'll tell Cobb that you've got a headache – which you seem to get frequently – and won't be in until later. Oh, and Artie? Change the bedsheets. If you make a mess like that in our bed again, you can sleep in the bathtub."

Arthur looked at Eames, his face a mixture of anger and fear. The Forger smiled, and shrugged.

"Face it, Arthur," he looked at him. "You hate me. You despise me. But you can't bring yourself to leave me. You get something out of this. The fact you actually have someone willing to tolerate you in bed with them, in their life. Without me, you'd be on your own. And that thought really hurts you."

The Forger turned, and walked out, letting the front door bang and echo through the house. Arthur sat staring at the bottle of pills in his hand. Pills, pills, pills. He closed his eyes.


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me, all readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Eames strolled down the street, his keys jangling in his pocket. He knew Arthur could be trusted not to take the entire bottle of pills; after his previous attempt, he would tell Cobb to just leave him there.

Convincing Arthur to come home had been easier than he'd dared hope. He'd been concerned that Cobb would have convinced the Point Man, over a few beers, and with Cobb's intense gaze boring into him, that Eames was all wrong for Arthur, and he should leave him. The prospect of Arthur leaving Eames was one that the Forger couldn't see happening.

Getting Arthur back into bed had been even easier. Cook him a meal, wear a better shirt, dab on that tacky aftershave he'd bought him for Christmas, exposing his complete lack of imagination as a gift giver, and he'd been as malleable as clay. Eames had bit his lip to keep from laughing when he'd told Arthur how he didn't deserve him, how he was a prince. As he was, the Forger surmised. Spoiled, snobbish, and slightly disdainful.

And Arthur's reaction! The way those brown eyes had widened, and Eames could have sworn he'd seen tears start to emerge. The way he was so heartfelt in agreeing with Eames that they'd try again, and this time, it would work. Eames had nearly choked when Arthur had told him not to be irrational. Coming from someone who had flirted blatantly and blamed him for his shortcomings, the hypocrisy had made the food he'd cooked taste sour.

The bedroom. Eames had swallowed and tried to conceal his astonishment as Arthur had responded. The way he'd actually kissed him with feeling, with passion, rather than giving of so little fire it wouldn't even make toast. The way he'd almost led. Eames almost regretted not letting Arthur lead, seeing him actually showing a bit of stamina would have been worth it.

He'd been surprised to see Arthur's boxers had slid off so easily. He was so frigid, so unwilling to be touched, that Eames had often wondered if he had a chastity belt on.

As for entering him – his flesh had been tight and resistant, and bled. But Eames hadn't noticed. Arthur was his, and he'd been determined to have him. He'd gone deep, not noticing the way Arthur had cried with pain. Afterwards, he'd withdrawn, leaving Arthur lying on the bed. He'd seen the traces of vomit when he'd returned, but thought nothing of it.

He'd seen Arthur had bled in the bed. He'd forgotten how precious he was.

As he approached the warehouse, his steps started to slow. He knew Cobb would be there, and he'd probably be pointing a gun at him. No matter – that was one problem he could take care of. He felt round the back of his trousers. Yes, the gun was there. Just in case.

He entered. The low hum of a laptop indicated that the Extractor was there, hunched over a laptop. He looked up as Eames approached, his face hardening.

"Hello Dom," Eames kept his voice casual. "Good to see you, how was Berlin?"

"Where's Arthur?" Cobb practically spat out the words.

"At home. In bed. With a headache." Eames responded flatly. "If you don't believe me, Cobb, go there and check."

Cobb glared. He turned back to the laptop, then, as if having second thoughts, got up, pushed his chair back, and walked to the Forger, grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket and shoving him up against the wall. Eames was so surprised that he almost choked.

"What is it about you, you piece of shit?" Cobb hissed, his eyes narrowing. "What is it about you that makes someone like Arthur put up with someone like you? I take him to Berlin to get away from you, you ring him and immediately decides to leave. And he goes home, to you, and now he's not here. What have you done?"

Eames leaned in close to Cobb. Their faces were almost touching.

"I gave him the fuck of a lifetime." His voice was taunting. "You should have heard him! He was practically screaming, begging for me. He writhed beneath me and came at least twice. I know I've always said Arthur's got a stick up his arse, well last night he certainly did! I nearly broke him in half, but I would have just grabbed him and started fucking him again. Why does he stay with me, _Dom_? Because the sex is great. Great sex can make up for a lot in a relationship, clearly it didn't make up for anything with you and Mal-"

Eames never finished the sentence. Cobb swung at him and landed an uppercut punch to his jaw. The Forger staggered sideways, groaning.

"Get out." Cobb's voice was ice. "Just go."

"Go?" Eames had regained his composure, despite the redness and swelling to his jaw. "Go where?"

"London. Mombasa. The festering hell hole you crawled out of. Just go. Far away from me, and far away from my team. Far away from Arthur."

"You know, this protectiveness you have of Arthur is really touching, Cobb." The Forger was starting to grin, the malevolence showing through. "I did wonder if the two of you were secretly slipping it to each other while my back was turned. If you are, no wonder Mal went mad!"

Cobb turned to Eames with pure, undisguised hatred on his face.

"If you mention my wife once more", he spoke in a voice so calm, so quiet it was at odds with the blaze in his eyes, "I will shoot you. Now leave. Don't bother to collect any of your stuff, I can get it sent on to you."

Eames bowed. "Of course. See you soon, Dom. Love to Arthur!"

He turned, and walked down the stairs, whistling.

Cobb was shaking. Spotting a chair, he sank into it, his knees abruptly giving way under him.


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me, all readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Arthur lay in the bath, feeling the warm water surge and lap at his skin. He closed his eyes, imagining the pain and hurt being washed out, along with the blood. His buttocks had burned when they had hit the warm water, revealing that his injuries were deeper than he'd thought. His abdomen was still sore, and the muscles felt constricted.

His mind kept wandering to the previous night. Eames had sounded so convincing, so genuine. He'd held his hand, promised him that things would be better, that he'd treat Arthur with love and respect. That he'd be gentle.

Arthur's mind wandered, back to the beginnings of their relationship. It had started with Danish pastries. Every morning, for two weeks, he'd come in to work to find a cinnamon Danish on his desk, along with a take out Americano. He'd been pulling long hours, often not heading home until ten or eleven, not bothering to make time for dinner, and taken it as a thank you gesture from Cobb. Or maybe from Ariadne. It was a passing comment that had revealed the identity of the gift giver.

"Enjoying the Danish?" Eames had commented as he walked past the Point Man's desk.

"Mmm," was the response.

"Thought you could do with it." Eames perched on the edge of the desk, smiling. "Good to see you're getting your dimples back! You look better a bit plumper!"

Arthur nearly choked. "Your back handed compliment is noted, Eames, thank you." He looked up. The Forger was still sitting on the desk, smiling. "I take it you think the way to my heart is through my stomach?" he commented wryly.

"Oh, absolutely. So, lets prove it. Dinner? Tonight?"

Arthur paused. He felt he couldn't refuse. "OK. Why not?"

The dinner had been at a Cantonese restaurant, starting with Hot and Sour soup, and ended with them kissing passionately outside Arthur's apartment. He hadn't let Eames in though, saying he felt that they should take it slowly. Eames had seemed fine with it, but had commented that Arthur must be "a bit frigid." He'd smiled when he'd said this, causing the Point Man to dismiss it as one of the Forger's jokes.

The next date, Eames had been more insistent. He'd pushed Arthur up against the wall, reaching under his shirt, and groped at him. Arthur had felt the Forger's fingers press into his chest, up under his rib cage.

"Umm, Eames…" Arthur's voice had sounded faint.

"Mmm, I want you…" the Forger's voice was low, thick with desire. His breath was hot and he nibbled at Arthur's neck.

"Eames." Arthur put his hands on his shoulders. "There's no rush. Really. I think we should –"

"What?" The Forger's dark eyes burned into his.

"Take it slowly." Arthur finished, lamely.

"How slow?" Eames looked at the Point Man. "If you're playing hard to get, its working, I can barely walk at the moment, its getting in the way!"

Arthur went red.

"I just want to know…where this is going." He looked at Eames. "Am I just a notch on your bed post? Or do you want something serious?"

"I'm not a white picket suburb and roses round the door man, Arthur. Never have been. But, I am the type of man who knows what he wants, and I want you. And if you're unsure-" he leaned in, kissing Arthur's nose – "I can wait."

After that, Eames had backed off slightly. Arthur still received little gifts on his desk – a cup of coffee, a card with a message inside – but the Forger stopped with the invitations to dinner, and only spoke to Arthur on the same level as he spoke to Cobb. Friendly, but not overly. With warmth, but no desire.

Then came a shock.

"So, Friday," Eames spoke gregariously, rubbing his hands together. "Whats everyone up to?"

"Aside from working?" Cobb spoke wryly. He was sorting through some files.

"Live a little, Dom! Come out for a drink with me! I'm meeting someone at half 8, but I'd love to socialise before!"

Arthur's ears pricked up. Eames? Socialising?

"Who are you meeting?" He tried to keep his voice casual.

"Oh, a friend." Eames was dismissive. "No-one you know, Artie."

"Male or female?" Yusuf spoke, a grin on his face.

"Not that its any of your business, you cheeky bastard, but male. He called out of the blue and asked if we could meet up."

Cobb coughed. "I hope the poor guy gets out alive. Do make sure you eat first!"

Eames laughed, a knowing, throaty chuckle. "Don't worry Dom – I fully intend to eat _something!"_

Arthur felt near tears. Didn't Cobb realise how cruel he was being? How he was helping Eames in dismissing Arthur? His mind went back to how they'd stood in the alley, Eames touching him and murmuring desire. Arthur had felt powerful, wanted. Now he felt cheap and dirty, like a five dollar hooker.

He put his files down on the desk, struggling to control his emotions. He looked at Eames, smiling and joking with the other two men. Did he not realise how much this was hurting him? He thought Eames had liked him, been prepared to wait.

Tears came to his eyes, and he angrily brushed them aside. Eames looked up and straight at him.

"You allright, Arthur?"

"Yes." Arthur slammed the files down and headed for the door. Fresh air. It would help clear his head. He ran down the stairwell, and went out into the street. Tears welled up again, and this time, he let them roll down his face.

How could he have been so stupid? He berated himself. Eames had been honest – he wasn't the type to settle down – but neither was he prepared to be kept on a string. Arthur had thought he could keep the Forger waiting, and clearly, Eames had grown bored. Maybe he _was_ frigid, the Point Man thought, desperately trying to ignore the explosion of regret happening in his chest.

"Arthur?"

He turned. Eames had materialised next to him.

"Oh…hi," Arthur choked out the words.

"Whats wrong?" Eames voice was gentle. "Are you ok?"

"I hope you have a good time tonight," the Point Man blurted out, and then spun on his heel to go back inside. But then, in a split second, he turned again, to face the Forger. Grabbing him by the lapel of his jacket, he pulled him into the side alley.

Arthur pulled Eames head down to his, and kissed him. Hard. Deep. His tongue explored, probing. Eames reciprocated, running his hand up Arthur's back, and up under his shirt. He squeezed his fingers along the back muscles.

"Mmmm, nice", Eames pulled away. "Thank you. That's got me warmed up for this evening."

Arthur's voice came out in a heated rush: "Cancel it. Tell him you're sick. Come with me."

Eames raised his eyebrows. "Very good of you to offer, but he's flown all the way from Mombasa to see me. I can't just-"

Eames was silence by another kiss. Arthur wrapped his fingers around the Forgers neck, digging in, leaving marks. He nibbled at his lip, and pushed his hips up against Eames crotch. His own erection was mirrored by the increasing bulge in Eames groin.

"Cancel it." Arthur's voice was throaty. "Take me. Take me somewhere. Please."

Eames smiled, a wolfish grin appearing on his lips. "If you insist. Lets go back to my place, Its closer. Tell Dom its Friday, and you want to live a little."

A smile spread across Arthur's mouth. "Of course."

The cab ride to Arthur's apartment had been in silence, with Eames fingers moving towards his crotch at every opportunity. Once inside, clothes had been shedded, with Arthur sprawling on the bed. Eames had kissed the whole length of his torso, before moving his hands to his hips, and pulling down his boxer shorts. He'd entered him, twice, and Arthur had moaned with a pleasure he never thought's he have. The afterglow had been delicious, with the younger man curling up in the Forger's arms, letting him dot his face with kisses.

"What time is it?" Arthur asked sleepily.

"Its…just after Eight." The Forger checked his watch.

"You can still meet you friend." Arthur snuggled closely to Eames' back.

"What friend?" The Forger stroked Arthur's face gently.

"The friend from Mombasa." Arthur felt confused.

"There is no friend from Mombasa."

Arthur looked at Eames. "What?"

"There is no friend from Mombasa, Artie." A mocking smile was playing around the Forger's lips. "Never has been. But, as a way of getting you into bed, it certainly worked like a charm. Nothing like a bit of jealousy to fan the flames of desire, hmmm?"

Arthur sat bolt upright, his heart beginning to pound. "So you-"

"Lied." The Forger looked at him dispassionately. "Bringing you cake everyday clearly wasn't going to work, plus I'm sure you don't want to get fat, so I thought a bit of manipulation. Make you think you're not the only man I think about every day. I thought if that didn't get you over your frigidity, nothing would."

"I'm not frigid, Eames, just cautious. And you manipulated me into sex!"

"Oh, dear," the Forger crooned. "So I did. Pity I didn't get you drunk first. Would you claim that was date rape?"

Arthur laid down again. His head was beginning to swim.

"Eames…I do like you, I-"

The Forger crushed his lips with a kiss. "I know you do darling, and I know you'll forgive me. You'll want to have sex with me again, so how about now?"

Arthur let himself be stroked by the Forger. He had a sudden feeling that he'd taken a step off a cliff.

He was startled out of his reverie by banging on the door. He pulled himself up, and took a tentative step out of the bathtub. Reaching for his robe, his struggled into it.

Walking was agony. Taking small steps hurt. At the front door, he took a deep breath, unlatched it, and pulled it open.


	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

"Good morning." The mailman stood in the doorway, squinting in the light. "I have two letters, one to be signed for."

"Oh, sure." Arthur took the proffered pen, and signed the form. He collected the two letters, thanked the mailman, and went back inside.

One was a new credit card. Under some gentle persuasion from Cobb, he'd rung the company, and told them his card had been stolen. The other was a letter. Addressed to Eames.

Arthur turned it over in his hands. He knew he should just leave it, or destroy it. But his curiosity was nibbling at his mind, like a school of relentless, hungry fish. Swallowing, he headed to the kitchen, straight to the kettle.

* * *

Cobb slumped at his desk. Telling Eames to go felt like a hollow victory. There was no guarantee he wouldn't go back to the house. Back to Arthur. Who would no doubt believe everything else he was told. He was almost beginning to think he needed to look for the strings dangling off Arthur, as he was becoming little more than Eames' puppet.

Eames would go to Mombasa. Or London. But he would come back, of that Cobb was certain. He shivered, and reached for his cellphone.

* * *

Arthur could barely believe it. He'd read the letter twice. He'd laid it face down on the table, hoping that the words would change, that it wasn't real. But he knew, as he picked it up to read it for the third agonising time, it was.

_Dear E,_

_I really hope you haven't forgotten the time we spent together last year. Those three weeks in London were heaven on earth. I've never met anyone before who made me feel as special, as precious as you do. You know how to satisfy, you know how to make me respond! I know you mentioned that you were seeing someone, but he sounded like a whiny little bitch! Come and see me. You know that I'll be ready…and waiting…_

_Love,_

_Steve_

Arthur sat there, in shock.

Steve. Who was this Steve, who wrote Eames letters, claiming they'd been together? London…he remembered now. They had been working on an extraction, trying to get the ideas out of the head of a major security firm. Eames, with his contacts, had offered to go to London for three weeks to scout out the mark.

He'd obviously done more than that.

_A whiny little bitch._

Arthur realised, with a sickening feeling, that that was himself that was being referred to. A whiny little bitch. He could imagine the scene, Eames curled up laughing with this other man, referring to Arthur: _"Oh, he has to floss twice a day…I'm amazed he lets me kiss him without brushing my teeth first.. He lies there in bed, waiting for me to do it all...He's got the most pathetic body, you'd think he was a prepubescent…but you're a real man, aren't you darling…_

Arthur got up.

_Seeing somebody…_

Seeing somebody. It was so casual, so dismissive. As though Arthur were merely someone he saw a couple of nights a week for dinner and sex. There was no indication of sharing a life, sharing a home.

Anger began to course through Arthur's deadened senses. The times Eames had accused him of flirting, of leading other men on. Yet, this was a letter informing him that Eames hadnt' just had a one night stand in Mombasa. He'd had an affair. Whilst Arthur's back was turned.

Arthur felt a paralysing, soul crushing fear take hold of him. What was wrong with him? Why was he not good enough for Eames?

Burying his face in his hands, Arthur sobbed.

* * *

Cobb's cellphone rang. Snatching it up, he saw with distaste that Eames was calling.

"Eames."

"Oh, hello, Dom." The Forger sounded cheerful. "I'm going to Mombasa for a couple of weeks. Look after Arthur for me. Change his nappy, clean up when he spits his food out, put a plaster on his knee when he falls over-"

"Fuck you," Cobb spat the words out. "You don't care about Arthur. If you did, you would have left long ago."

"And Arthur doesn't care about himself." Eames voice lowered. "If he did, he would have left me. But he hasn't. Has it ever occurred to you, Dom, in your straight, boring, vanilla world, that maybe Arthur secretly likes what I do? He likes it, and that's why he stays?"

Cobb tightened his grip on the phone.

"Still, I sent him a love letter this morning." There was a chuckle in Eames' voice. "I'd get over there if I were you, he might be about to show his never ending devotion to me. All the best Dom, see you soon."

Cobb snapped the phone shut. Love letter? Devotion? Grabbing his car keys off the desk, he ran out the warehouse door.

* * *

Arthur wandered through the house. Silent, empty. A reflection of how he felt. Then he remembered the bottle. Half dragging his feet, he walked to the bedroom.


	29. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

One pill. Two pills. Three pills. Four pills.

Arthur looked at them, lying in the palm of his hand. Then at the glass of water by the bed.

All he needed to do was open his mouth, put them in, and swallow them. Then just lie down, close his eyes, and wait for all the hurt, all the pain, to disappear.

Five pills. Six pills.

* * *

Cobb broke the speed limit. He didn't care. Eames' phone call had shaken him. He knew, with a sickening sense of dread, that the Forger had played his last card. Gritting his teeth, he pushed his foot on the accelerator to reach the suburban house.

* * *

Eames handed over his passport, and got a nod in return. Smiling, he pushed it into his flight bag, and headed for security.

He wondered if the letter had got there. If Arthur's curiosity and sheer determination to control every aspect of the Forger's life had driven him to open it.

He'd opened a letter addressed to Eames before, once. The letter had turned up on light pink paper, almost transparent in the light. Arthur had opened it, read it, and Eames had come home to a storm of angry protestations and tears. The letter had been from a "Elizabeth", thanking Eames for the money he'd sent and saying she loved him. Eames had punched Arthur hard for that. Opening his post had been a step too far. The letter had been from his neice.

Eames could imagine the scene. Arthur finding the letter, and pulling it open. Then sitting there, his face white with shock, as he realised that Eames could be having an affair behind his back. He hoped Arthur had picked up on the coded messages written into the letter – _whiny little bitch. _He hoped Arthur realised that if he stopped whinging, nagging, sulking, and behaving like a prepubescent, Eames might actually want to go a bit easier on him. If he stopped lying there like a frigid Victorian virgin on her wedding night, he might actually want to have sex with him.

The sun warmed his face. It felt good. He pulled his cellphone out and checked. No messages. He smiled to himself. They would come in time.

* * *

Arthur sat, frozen. His eyes were still on the row of pills.

He shouldn't have opened the letter. He berated himself for that. He'd accidentally opened one of Eames' letters once. It had been written on light pink paper, with fountain pen ink, and most of the address had run to the point where the name was barely perceptible. Puzzled, Arthur had opened it, and had been mortified to discover it was from Eames' niece, thanking him for the money he'd sent. He'd gone to apologise to Eames, protesting he'd been too hasty – and received a punch in the stomach. After that, Arthur had been careful never to touch Eames' mail.

But the letter from London. He'd felt compelled to open it.

_Whiny little bitch. _That was what hurt the most. That Eames had been mocking him, spoken so disparagingly of him behind his back. Arthur thought – maybe there was truth in it. He had treated Eames like a servant. He had iced him when he'd wanted to kiss him, or more. He did whine if he came home and the place was a mess. He wasn't funny. He wasn't easy going. He was too serious, too intent on trying to control everything. Eames had no doubt found someone easy going, more prepared to give him time.

Arthur rubbed his face. He wasn't enough for Eames. He had failed him completely. He looked back at the pills.

* * *

Cobb pulled up in front of the house. Slamming the card door, he ran to the front, only to find the door was slightly ajar. He pushed it open.

The house was silent. Steeling himself, the Extractor walked through the hallway, and stepped on something that crackled. Bending down, he picked up a sheet of paper.

A letter. Addressed to Eames.

Cobb's heart began to pound. This had to be the love letter that Eames had referred to. He scanned the contents, his face paling. Then he recovered his voice. "ARTHUR!" He went for the bedroom. "ARTHUR!"

He pushed the door open. To be confronted with the Point Man sitting on the bed, holding a glass of water, and two pills.

"Arthur," Cobb tried to keep his voice steady. "If you've taken some, fine, we'll get help. If you haven't, put those down. Now."

Arthur looked at him. "Why should I?" His voice was emotionless; flat.

"Because-" Cobb struggled for words. "Because whatever he's done to you, this is not worth it."

"He's left me." The voice was toneless.

"Arthur," Cobb took a step towards him. "Please, put down those pills."

"He's left me. Without him, there is nothing."

"Arthur. Put down those pills."

"A letter came." The voice was still emotionless. "He's been having an affair. In London. He thinks I'm a whiny little bitch. He hates me. I love him. What did I do to him? What did I do wrong?"

Arthur's voice broke on the final words. Tears began to roll down his face. Cobb took another step closer.

"You didn't do anything wrong." He spoke gently. "Eames does what he likes, you know that."

"But I love him." Arthur's voice was broken. "I love him, Cobb."

Cobb pulled Arthur into his arms, letting the slender, fragile man cry against his shoulder. "I know you do," he whispered. "I know you do."


	30. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Arthur sat listlessly at the kitchen table. Cobb put a fresh cup of coffee in front of him. Pulling out a chair, he sat down opposite.

"Arthur." Cobb spoke firmly, decisively. "He isn't coming back. You know that."

Arthur nodded, dumbly.

"You have to get away from here."

The Point Man looked up, his eyes were moist. Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he stared down into the coffee cup.

Cobb tried again. "Arthur, please don't make me-"

"Don't make you what?" The Point Man's voice was suddenly full of anger. "Don't make you what, Dom? Hit me? Punch me? Insult me? If you want to, go ahead. I've had two years of it with Eames, don't think I'm not use to it!"

The Extractor stood up. "I didn't mean that, I meant-"

"Yes, and he never meant it either!" Suddenly, Arthur's eyes were tearless, and his voice was full of raw emotion. "Eames never ever meant to hit me, Dom. It was because I annoyed him, or I upset him. Once, I went into Starbucks, the barista tried to pick me up, and he punched me. It was my fault. Because I'm a slut. Because I'm a flirt. Because I'm too good looking. Once we went to Yusuf's birthday party, and he lashed out at me afterwards. Because I didn't pay enough attention to him. Because I left him by himself, at the bar. Once I was too tired for sex, and he hit me. Because I'm frigid. Because I'm a prune faced ice lock!"

Cobb's jaw dropped. Arthur's hurt was rushing out like water through a broken dam.

"Don't you see?" He practically screamed at the Extractor. "No matter how brutal Eames is, no matter how much he hurts me, its never his fault! Its because I'm a no good, lying, frigid little slut, who has to be manipulated into sex, who has to punished every time he does something wrong. But he's insecure, Dom, insecure, and keeps saying he's lucky to have me. I've hurt him Dom, I've hurt him, and now he's gone!"

And with that, Arthur broke into choking sobs, that left the Extractor stunned.

"Art," Cobb spoke using the nickname that only he used. "Art, Eames is lucky to have you. He's lucky to have someone who puts up with his bullshit, who makes excuses for him, who accepts him everytime he lashes out. He is lucky to have you, truly. But don't you see this is all part of his sickness – in getting you to feel guilty for everything he's done?"

The phone began to ring. Arthur sniffled into a tissue. "I'll get it."

"What? No, Arthur!" Cobb tried to get to the received, but the Point Man had reached it, and picked it up. "Hello?"

"Oh, Artie, you are still there." The voice was slightly mocking. "So you didn't take the pills, after all."

"Eames?"

"Yes. Aren't you interested in where I've gone?"

Arthur's face was starting to drain of colour. "Where are you?" he practically whispered.

"I'm in Mombasa. Its warm, its sunny, and its very pleasant. Even more pleasant without your constant whining, nagging voice." The Forger's tone dropped. "But, I do miss having you around, Artie. Your body could do with some sun on it."

"When will you be back?"

"Mmmm, do you really want to know?"

Cobb had heard enough. He reached over, and snatched the receiver out of Arthur's hand. "Eames? Its Cobb."

"Oh, God, you came to the rescue? You're a tiresome man, you really are."

"And you're a sick one." Cobb's voice was terse. "I saw your note, Eames. Brilliant, really. A good way to push someone over the edge. Tell someone you're having an affair with to write a letter to you, knowing that Arthur's so confused about you he'd open it."

"Well, look for trouble, you find it. Arthur's been on the edge for years." Eames' voice was dangerous. "Pushing him really wasn't that hard. The fact he believed it should tell you something."

Cobb was thunderstruck. "You…wrote that?"

"Yes. Just to see what he'd do. Or hear. Let me guess, you found him with a bottle of pills and about to top himself, didn't you?"

Cobb felt shaky. "You set him up."

"Yep." The Forger sounded almost carefree. "Lets hope he got the message. If he wants me to come back, he might want to be less of a whiny little bitch."

"You sick-"

"You can stop with the insults." Eames' voice was dangerous. "I want to come back, and give Arthur the love and cherishing he deserves. But he needs to accept a few things."

Cobb's voice was flat and emotionless. "If you come back Eames, I will kill you."

The Forger laughed. "Heard it before, Dom. He was going to kill himself over that letter. Don't you get it? He can't live without me. See you." He hung up.

Arthur had overheard the conversation – he was motionless.

"He wrote that letter?" his voice was barely audible.

"Yes." Cobb took a deep breath. "Arthur. Leave him. Now."

The Point Man, frozen to the spot, looked at the Extractor. Dumbly, he nodded.


	31. Chapter 31

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

"Right, this is your room." Cobb ushered Arthur into the second bedroom of his apartment. "You'll be staying here for a while."

Arthur looked at the Extractor. "Dom. Thank you."

Cobb smiled. "Don't mention it. I'll go and make us some coffee. Or would you prefer a beer?"

Arthur smiled. "I won't say no to a beer."

"Good. Come to the kitchen when you're ready." The Extractor turned and walked down the tiled hallway.

Arthur walked over and sat on the pale green bedspread. His head ached, and he still felt shocked. Eames had set him up. Made him believe that he was having an affair, and for that, he'd wanted to die.

Arthur lay down on the bed. Memories were starting to crowd his mind, making him feel slightly dizzy. He remembered the first proper date he and the Forger had gone on. He closed his eyes, trying to piece it together in detail.

Eames had apologised for tricking him with the claimed visit of a friend. Arthur had entered the warehouse the next day to find a bunch of roses on his desk, along with a card. The card had simply stated "Downstairs, 8pm, E."

He'd gone downstairs at 8 to find Eames, dressed in a pristine white shirt, smiling awkwardly.

"Arthur, I want to…" his voice trailed off, appraising how Arthur looked in his tailored grey suit. "Take you out for dinner. I need to apologise. I want to start again, romance you properly, not treat you as though you're cheap."

Arthur was too stunned to speak. Eames leaned forward, and took his hand.

"You're a special guy, Arthur." He spoke softly. "Let me show you how special I think you are."

Arthur, nodding his assent, let himself be lead away to a restaurant – Mulholland's. Over a meal, accompanied by wine, Eames told him that he couldn't remember the last time he'd had dinner with a gorgeous young man, and one who was also clever and witty to boot. He cupped Arthur's hand twice, and apologised for having treated him so shabbily.

"Its just…" his voice faded and he took another sip of wine.

"What is it?" Arthur asked.

""Men like you don't normally go for men like me." Eames shifted in his seat. "Men like you- attractive, cultured, educated men – generally see a guy like me as a bit of a thug, a bit of rough. Good for a one nighter but nothing else. You're out of my league, Arthur, and I know I tricked you, but I didn't feel you would be interested."

Arthur gulped his wine.

"I'm not out of your league, Eames." He spoke honestly. "I'm from a small Midwestern town. A very boring, small western town. I went to college, then I met Dom, and I'm here." He looked at the Forger. "You've travelled, seen the world, lived with a couple of people – I didn't even have sex until I was 19! You're an interesting guy. I'm not."

Eames smiled, and put his hand to Arthur's cheek. "You are so sweet, you really are. You're like a precious vase I just want to wrap in cotton wool and protect from the world."

"I don't need protecting, Eames." Arthur sipped his wine. "Trust me."

Eames smiled, slightly wolfishly. "Oh, Arthur. I think you do."

They had split the bill – Arthur's insistence – and walked to his apartment. As they entered, Eames kissed him tenderly, on the neck, before running his hands up his torso. Arthur had nibbled Eames lip, and before he could stop him, the Forger had him in a fireman's lift and was carrying him to the bedroom. Arthur was lying on the bed, and before he realised, his shirt was off his torso and Eames was running his tongue up and down his chest.

"Oh, you are lovely," Eames whispered, "you look so fragile, lying here, as though I could break you in half." He nibbled at Arthur's nipple, causing the Point Man to stiffen. "So lovely…"

When Eames had entered Arthur, the Point Man had gasped, and moaned with intensity. "Oh, you're mine," the Forger whispered, stroking his skin. "Mine."

Arthur curled up next to him, encircling him with his arms. "Mmmm."

Eames kissed his forehead.

The next morning, Arthur had woken in a sleepy haze, rolled over, and saw the Forger lying next to him. He kissed him on the lips, feeling a thrill go through him. He turned over to get up – and then felt hands grab his hips.

"Hey, not so fast!" Eames voice was sleepy, but distinct. "If I'm going to have something so gorgeous wake up next to me, I'm going to have it right now!"

Arthur had been straight back in the bed. Their love had been passionate that morning, to the point where both had been late in the warehouse. Eames had insisted on taking him out for lunch, and they'd then cemented their new relationship with a deep, passionate kiss over the table.

Arthur blinked, feeling like a fool. He'd trusted Eames, trusted him with the core of his being. He'd told the Forger things he'd never told anyone. Believed him that he was interested in Arthur, thought he was clever, witty, and cultured.

And instead, he'd clearly thought of him as aggravating, obsessive, and annoying.

But Eames was the only man who claimed he'd ever loved him.

Arthur felt his heart wrench. He wanted him to come back.


	32. Chapter 32

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

The doorbell rang. Arthur jumped, his knife clattering to the floor.

Cobb hastily wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood up. "I'll get it. Stay here – don't you move." Unconciously, he reached round his back for his gun, a reassuring weight in the small of his back.

Arthur swallowed. He stayed, nodding mutely.

Cobb went to the door, and unlatched it. He opened it a crack, and then opened it fully when he saw Aridane standing in front of it.

"Ari!" He hugged her. "So good to see you! How was California!"

"Oh, it was wonderful!" She cuddled Cobb close. "Miles sends his best, and says you really need to fly out and visit him soon!"

"Oh, I will. Come in!" He ushered her towards the kitchen. "Its Ari!"

Ariadne was confused. "Is someone here- Arthur!" she exclaimed. Unsure of whether to hug the Point Man or not, she hung back.

Arthur opened his arms. "Come here – give me a hug!"

The Architect complied, noting as she did that Arthur's torso no longer felt as thin as it looked a few weeks previously. He also looked less tired, and drawn.

He pushed her back slightly. "You look great," he commented. "That Californian sun has really given you a glow!"

She smiled. "You look…" Arthur's eyes pierced into her. "Better."

An awkward silence began to hang in the air. Cobb broke it.

"I'll make some coffee." He moved towards the counter. "Arthur, take Ari into the living room, ok."

"Of course." Arthur led the Architect into the lounge of the apartment, a slightly cluttered room decorated in warm sand tones. He moved a cushion in an armchair, and gestured to it. "Sit down, Ari."

"Thanks." She felt slightly uncomfortable. The last time she'd seen the Point Man, he'd been bruised, and weeping – now he looked healthier and more _alive. _She didn't know how to start a conversation with him, or whether she should. What could they talk about? The weather? The latest movies?

Arthur made the decision. "You don't have to be scared of talking to me, Ariadne."

She swallowed. "I'm not."

"So why don't you start by saying something then?"

She took a breath. "Well, how are you? Miles invited me out to California, and I didn't get a chance to see you before I left. I've been wondering how you are."

Arthur looked at her, dispassionately.

"Oh, I'm great. My boyfriend tricked me into coming back from Berlin, got me drunk, took me upstairs, and practically raped me. Then I get a letter telling me that he's having an affair with a guy in London, only it turns out it's just to upset me. So I try and take an overdose. Cobb turns up, and convinces me to come here. So, I'm here, living on his charity, whilst Eames is in Mombasa, and I have no idea if he even cares. But aside from that, I'm terrific. Thank you for asking."

Ariadne's jaw began to quiver. "Arthur, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Yeah, everyone's always sorry! I'm sure you are, I'm sure you feel really sorry for me. Arthur has a boyfriend who beats him, because he's a stuck up, whiny little bitch. And I'm sure you're sitting there thinking, 'oh, if only you weren't gay! Because I would love you, and take care of you, and pamper you.' So, you're not feeling sorry for me, Ari, you're probably feeling sorry for yourself!"

Tears began to roll down the Architects' face. "Tell Cobb I had to leave," she whispered, and ran for the door. The bang caused Cobb to come out of the kitchen.

"Where's Ari?"

"She had to leave." Arthur shrugged.

Cobb stared at him, his jaw tightening. "Had to? What happened?"

Arthur looked at the Extractor. "I…don't know."

"What did you say?" Cobb tried to keep his temper under control. He didn't want to shout, or do anything that could be triggering for the Point Man. But if he had upset Ariadne-

"She asked me how I was."

"And?"

"I told her that my boyfriend had assaulted me, left me, and that if she felt sorry for me, its probably she thinks I deserve it."

Cobb couldn't believe his ears. "What?"

Arthur looked at the Point Man. "Didn't you ever see the way she looked at me in the first few months? Until she realised I was gay? She's probably still clinging to her little fantasy, that I might decide she's the one I want. And I don't."

Cobb took a step forward. When he spoke, his voice was cold.

"I'm trying to help you, Arthur. I know Eames treated you like shit. But you have just behaved like a shit to Ariadne, who hasn't done anything to you. So, she had a crush on you. She had a crush on me at one point! She doesn't believe you deserve this, she never did! If you're going to behave like this, maybe you should go back to Eames. Because if you enjoyed what you just did, you're no better than him. In fact, Arthur, maybe you two are more alike than you ever imagined."

The Extractor turned and walked out. The Point Man stood in the lounge, suddenly feeling cold and shaken.


	33. Chapter 33

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Arthur went into his room, and sat on the bed. He rubbed his hands over his face.

He couldn't believe what he'd just said to Ariadne. How he'd accused her of still hankering after him, of still wanting to think he was straight. He remembered the shock on her face, and the way her face had twisted.

The biggest shock was that Cobb had been right. He had wanted to hurt her. Wanted to see her cry. In the same way Eames had taken a pleasure in seeing him crumple.

He remembered the first time he'd seen that flash of sadism in Eames. They'd been sitting on the couch together, watching TV. Arthur had had his legs swung up on the couch, across Eames' lap. Eames had shifted, jokingly commenting how Arthur's legs were like twigs.

"Are you saying I'm thin?" Arthur had commented jokily. He knew that their difference in shape and size made them an odd couple, but he loved the fact Eames was larger than him – it made him feel protected, safe.

"No, not really."

"Not really?" Arthur had pushed the Forger. "How do you mean?"

Eames turned to him, his eyes cold. "I mean you're weak, scrawny, and underdeveloped, Artie. That's what I mean."

Arthur felt himself quiver slightly. "I thought you said I had a great body-"

"There you go, fishing for compliments again." Eames' attention was directed solely on the television. "But as you'll let me fuck you into next week tonight, I'll forgive it, just this once."

Later that night, as Eames had slept, Arthur had crept out of bed and into the bathroom. Switching on the lights, he'd turned in front of the mirror, examining himself. He'd previously seen a toned, healthy young man, with a firm torso and muscles in his abdomen.

Now he saw something shrunken, small. His ribs seemed to stick out. His waist was too narrow. His arms looked underdeveloped, as though he wouldn't be able to lift anything. His legs looked bony, wasted.

Shivering, he crawled back into bed, trying to fight the tears that threatened him. He'd never been egotistical, but he knew he got admiring glances in the street, and not just from men. Now he felt like a weak little boy, and looking at Eames – with his muscled chest – inadequate, inferior.

And now he'd taunted Ariadne. Told her that he felt that she felt as though he deserved it. Deserved to be hurt, deserved to be made to feel bad.

He got up – he needed to find Cobb.

As he walked to the door, his cellphone started to ring. Without thinking, he pulled it out of his pocket. "Hello?"

"Artie, good to hear your sweet voice." Eames' sounded almost jovial. "And how is my precious little prince? Is Cobb taking good care of you, wiping your tears and changing your nappy?"

Arthur swallowed. "Cobb is – letting me stay with him."

"Oh, is he?" Eames sounded mocking. "I'm sure you're stimulating company, dearest. Now, listen. I know that letter upset you. I'm sorry about that, I really am. But, I wanted to know – how do you really feel about me? Can you bear the thought of me being with someone else?"

Arthur felt himself begin to shake slightly. "No." It came out as a whisper.

"You can't. You love me, Arthur, you know you do. You need me, I validate you, give you a reason to live."

Arthur took a deep breath. "I don't need you to hit me, Eames. I don't need your violence, or you trying to hurt me. I don't need it, at all. If you want this to work, please don't raise your fists at me. I'm your partner. I'm not your punchbag."

There was a silence.

"Well, well." Eames almost sounded impressed. "You've actually grown some balls, Artie. I'm impressed! Or did Cobb tell you to say that, coach you and make you practice?"

Arthur blinked back tears. "If you come back, Eames, I want this to work. But if you hit me again, ever, I'm gone. For good. I will leave you, and I will let you have everything you want from the house. All the cash, all the antiques, everything. If you hurt me anymore than you have, then I will leave you on your own. Because I will move on. But you, will have lost your chance. Forever."

The Forger sucked in his breath. Arthur felt himself shake, and to his embarrassment and dismay, his bladder start to relax. He winced.

"Arthur-" Eames sounded gentle, almost tearful. "Arthur, I had no idea you felt this way. No idea I was hurting you this much. You know I love you, you're the finest man I've ever met. You've put up with so much. I'm so jealous, so insecure, I've nearly destroyed the one good thing in my life."

Arthur choked slightly. "Do you mean this?"

"Arthur." Eames had tears in his voice. "Please, let me come back to you. I trust what you say. If I hit you again, leave me, press charges, tell Cobb to take a contract out on me. I don't deserve you. But I love you."

Arthur felt himself begin to smile. "When you come back – shall I meet you at the airport?"

"No." Eames voice was throaty. "I want you upstairs, naked, legs open. I want to cover you with rose petals."

Arthur was shaking. "OK. When do you think you can come back?"

Eames swallowed. "I can get a flight tomorrow."

"Oh." Arthur felt a new light run through him. "Please do!"

"See you, darling." The phone clicked off.

Arthur pushed the door open, and walked straight into Cobb.

"Oh, who was that?" The Extractor raised his eyebrows. "Let me guess. And let me guess again – all the usual bullshit, hmm?"

"He loves me." Arthur looked at the Extractor. "He wants us to try again."

Cobb looked at the Point Man. "OK, Arthur. But this time, you're on your own." Cobb turned and walked to the kitchen.

"Cobb!" Arthur shouted after him. "I've told him, if he hits me again, I'm leaving for good."

The Extractor turned round. "I'll believe it when it happens."

Arthur swallowed. Going back into his room, he reached for his case, and pulled out his gun.


	34. Chapter 34

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Cobb stood in the doorway, looking directly at Arthur. The Point Man tried to avoid his eyes as he packed his case.

"You really are going to go through with this, aren't you?"

Arthur focused on putting his shirts into the case. "Yep."

"Don't."

Arthur ignored Cobb.

"He'll hurt you. Again."

"I've told him if he hurts me again, I'll leave him."

"Yeah, right."

"I mean it."

"Of course you do." Cobb turned and walked out, leaving the Point Man gripping a shirt, his fingers trembling.

* * *

The house was silent. As Arthur walked into it, he felt nerves begin to overcome him, and he began to shake. Putting his bag down, he went into the kitchen, and poured himself a glass of water.

"You took your time."

Arthur nearly jumped, water splashing over the counter. Eames was standing in the doorframe of the kitchen.

"Eames." He turned to the Forger. "I didn't expect you to-"

His voice was cut off as a crushing kiss was placed on his lips. The Forger's tongue pushed its way, invasively, into his mouth. Arthur entwined his arms around the Forger, pulling him close.

"Come to bed with me", Eames murmured in his ear. "Come to bed with me, and let me prove how much I love you."

Arthur kissed him back. "Only if you carry me upstairs."

Eames grinned, took a step back, and hoisted Arthur over his shoulder. Whistling, he headed for the stairs. When they got to the bedroom, Arthur's jaw dropped.

The bed was covered in rose petals.

"I said I wanted to cover you in petals, darling," Eames had set him on the floor, and was running his tongue suggestively around his jawline. "I meant it. I meant every word. Lets start again. I love you, and want to be with you."

Arthur pulled Eames close, into a passionate kiss. The Forger started to tug at the Point Man's shirt, nudging him towards the bed. Arthur felt his knees give way and he collapsed onto it. Eames pulled at him, and manoeuvred himself on top. He ran his hands down Arthur's torso, and suddenly stopped.

"Care to explain what that is, Artie?"

"What?"

"This". Eames fumbled around Arthur's waist, and pulled out his gun. The Point Man swallowed, and looked at Eames. His mouth had gone dry.

"Planning on shooting me, where you?"

"Eames, I –"

"Oh, I know I've roughed you up," the Forger leaned in close, "I know I've hurt you, but shooting me? That's a little extreme. You really do love your melodrama." He raised his hand, and punched towards his face, but Arthur dodged, causing him to hit the pillow. Eames smiled slightly, and then backhanded him, catching him in the face.

Arthur struggled to sit up. "That's it. Its over. I told you Eames, if you hit me again, I would leave you. Its over. Finished. Now, let me go. I'll arrange to come back for my stuff."

Eames raised his eyebrows, smiling mockingly. "You really want me to believe that?"

"Yes." The Point Man's voice was firm. "Now, get off me, and let me go. I'll go back and stay with Cobb. And then I'll go to California. Don't try and follow me."

Eames got off him, and let him get up. "Of course. I can't resist you when you try and be macho, Artie. Its so bizarre, its sweet. Normally, you're such a - what was the phrase I used? Whiny little bitch."

"You can't hurt me anymore, Eames." Arthur stood up. "Its over. You can't keep me here."

"Whatever you say, Artie."

Swallowing, Arthur got up off the bed, and walked to the door. Suddenly, a gunshot was fired. Arthur heard a scream of pain.

His face whitening, turned round. Eames had collapsed on the floor. Blood was oozing from a bullet wound in his left calf.

"Oh, Artie," he looked at him, pleadingly, gasping out the words. "Why did you do that? Why did you shoot me?"

Stunned, Arthur went over to him. "Eames, I didn't shoot you. I was over there, I-"

"I-" Suddenly, Arthur realised he had no answer. Why would he bring his gun to bed, unless it was to shoot Eames?

Arthur crouched down. "Don't try and move, you'll keep the wound open. Oh my God, I need to get help for this-"

Eames clutched at his hand, his face controted with pain. "Thank you darling, I know I can rely on you."

With trembling fingers, Arthur pulled out his cellphone, and keyed in 911. "Hi, I need some help. My partner…he's been shot…in the leg…he's bleeding…please send a paramedic."

"Thank you Artie." Eames was smiling at him. "And now, what are you going to tell the police?"

_The Police?_ Arthur's heart started pounding.

"You brought a gun to bed with us. And now I've been shot." Eames looked at Arthur, mockingly. "Oh dear, Artie, it looks as though you're in even deeper than you thought. But its ok, though." He pulled him close. "I forgive you."

Arthur looked at Eames. He was trapped.


	35. Chapter 35

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Arthur sat in the hospital waiting room, still unable to comprehend what had happened.

The ambulance had arrived, and the paramedics had taken one look at Eames, and then a look at Arthur. The younger man could have sworn that they were regarding him with suspicion.

He swallowed. Every minute he sat there, he grew increasingly fearful that the police would come in, and arrest him. For shooting his partner. For spousal abuse. The bitter irony of the situation made him wince.

Taking a deep breath, he felt in his pocket for his cellphone.

* * *

Cobb was washing dishes when his cellphone shrilled. He still felt angry towards the Point Man, and wished he'd made him sit down, stay, and see sense. Biting back an angry mutter, he fished the cell out of his pocket, and flipped it open. "Hello?"

"Cobb? Its me."

Cobb sighed. "Look Arthur, I really don't have time to listen to how Eames has tried to hit you again, we've had this conversation before, I'm nearly out of pat-"

"No, Dom, please, listen to me." Arthur was barely audible. "Eames is in hospital."

Cobb nearly dropped the phone. "What?"

"I-I took my gun with me, Dom. We were kissing, and he…found it. He tried to hit me, I told him I was leaving. Then…he…he…"

Cobb spoke gently. "Arthur. Stay where you are. I'll be there in ten."

* * *

"Mr Richards?" Arthur looked up. A young intern was looking at him.

"Mr Eames has had the bullet removed, he's fully conscious. He wants to see you." The intern smiled. He had a kind smile, Arthur noted. "He's under medication, but he insists he wants to see you."

Arthur got up. His heart was beginning to pound.

The intern looked at him, closely. "Mr Richards, are you sure you're ok?" There was genuine concern in his voice. "You've just witnessed something traumatic, its not every day someone sees their partner shot by a house robber."

Arthur blinked. Everything seemed fuzzy and out of focus. "I'm just- just-"

"In shock," the intern filled in. "Hang on a sec."

Arthur stood in the waiting room, everything seeming to grow smaller and crowd in on him. Eames had told them it was a house robber. Not him. A house robber. He had lied to the paramedics.

The intern suddenly re-appeared, carrying a plastic cup of coffee. "Here." He smiled. "It tastes of mud, but its hot, with sugar."

Arthur took it, gratefully. "Thank you so much."

"No problem." The intern spoke easily. "Part of my job. Feeling better?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes."

* * *

Cobb broke the speed limit. He didn't care. Not anymore. This was beyond comprehension. Arthur's life was spiralling from a drama into a tragedy.

* * *

Eames looked up as Arthur approached. He looked paler than the Point Man had ever seen him.

"Oh, Arthur!" There was so much love in his voice, that Arthur thought he was going to be sick. "Oh, I'm so glad that bastard hit me rather than you!" He turned to the intern. "I am sorry, Doctor."

The intern smiled warmly. "Not a problem, Mr Eames. I'll leave the two of you alone." Tactfully, he withdrew and closed the door.

Arthur looked at Eames. "The doctor- he said-"

"What?" Eames voice was like ice.

"That you were hit by a house intruder." Arthur's voice was barely a whisper.

"Yes, I did. A nasty piece of work, who pointed the gun at you, but I pushed him, and it went off and hit me in the leg." Eames raised his eyebrows. "It's a clean wound, it missed the bone. I'll be up and walking by tomorrow, hopefully."

Arthur swallowed. "So you lied to the paramedics-"

Eames grabbed his arm, and pulled him close. His voice lowered, menacingly. "Shut the fuck up, you sanctimonious little shit. Of course I fucking lied. Do you think I'm going to tell them that I shot myself to keep my tedious, wimpy little boyfriend from walking out on me because I upset him? I've saved your arse. After all, whose gun is it? Whose fingerprints were all over it?"

The reality hit Arthur like an ice bath. He began to shake.

"Think about it, Artie." The voice was a hiss. "They would interview you. They'd want to know, why do you have a gun, and boom! – Cobb's in it up to his neck. They'd want to know, why did you take your gun to bed with you, and boom! You'd tell them the whole story. Think about it – battered partner shoots his other half. Never mind what I've done, its just your word for it. For shooting me, it could be framed as attempted murder. You could get 20 years. Oh, think of your pretty little arse in those showers!"

Arthur tried to speak. "You've framed me. You've-"

"Got you right where I wanted." Eames spoke with real satisfaction in his voice. "What are you going to do, Artie? Go running crying to Cobb? Crying to Miles? Or just go home and finally take that overdose you've been promising to do? It would be so like you, isn't it – playing the tragic victim. Now, go away. I'm tired and want to sleep. Come and see me tomorrow. We do need to keep up appearances."

Arthur moved as if in a dream. He walked slowly from Eames side to the door, and opened it. Stepping outside, the pristine white hospital walls suddenly gave way to darkness. He fell to the floor, hitting his head in the process.

**Quick heads up - I'm in the process of moving house at present, so my net access will be sporadic for the next three weeks. I will still be writing, and update when I can. Your reading is very much appreciated, thank you!**


	36. Chapter 36

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

"He was lying in the hallway." The intern looked at Cobb. "He passed out, having hit his head. We think he might have a mild concussion."

"Where is he?"

"He's in room 4."

Cobb thanked the intern, then walked towards Arthur's room. The Point Man looked white, but he smiled hesitantly when he saw the Extractor. Cobb walked towards him, his face a mask of concern.

"What happened?" The Point Man flinched. "You need to tell me everything, Arthur."

Arthur took a deep breath. "He shot himself. In the leg. Then he told the Paramedics that it was a house intruder."

Cobb was so stunned he merely open and closed his mouth. Arthur exhaled shakily.

"What-why-?"

"He can't let me go, Dom. He can't. He used my gun. Its got my prints all over it! If the police see that, I could go down for twenty years-"

Arthur's voice became very faint. Cobb walked over, and put a tentative hand on his shoulder.

"We'll get you out of this Arthur. I promise."

Arthur swallowed and looked at the Extractor.

"You can't." He spoke tonelessly. "You can't. Why didn't you just leave me on the floor, Dom? Why didn't you just let me go?"

Shocked, the Extractor took a step back. "Arthur, you can't seriously mean that. That I should have just let you bleed to death."

The Point Man nodded dumbly. Cobb saw the tears glittering in his eyes. Swearing under his breath, he moved towards the door.

* * *

Cobb walked to Eames' hospital room. He had told the nurse he was a close friend, trying not to choke on the words. As he approached the door, he willed himself to stay calm. He pushed open the door.

Eames was sitting up in bed. He had a good colour, and looked ridiculously healthy, in comparison to the broken Point Man in room 4.

Cobb's lips tightened, and he walked towards Eames.

"Oh, hello Dom," the Forger said, companionably. "Have you brought me grapes?"

"No." Cobb leaned over the bed. "I've come to give you a final warning. Go and discharge, pack your bags, and just go. Go to Mombasa, go to London, go to the moon for all I fucking care. But get away from Arthur. Do not attempt to contact him again."

Eames smiled, mockingly. "Is that the best you can do?" He lowered his voice. "May I remind you that Arthur could be up on an attempted murder charge if he and you aren't very careful. He brought the gun into the bedroom. He intended to use it. I took it off him. I told them that it was a house intruder, but lets face it – a jury would look at the backstory – man claims to have been battered by spouse, then said spouse gets shot by gun. Oh, Arthur's in it up to his neck."

Cobb gritted his teeth. "Listen to me, you reptile", he virtually spat at Eames, "Arthur is the one whose been abused. His defence would claim it was just that – self-defence."

"If you say so." Eames was mocking again. "But, remember, he's attempted suicide. The Prosecution would claim he's unstable with a history of unpredicatbale behaviour. In fact, they might even claim that I never touched him. It was simply self-harm."

Cobb looked at Eames, astounded. "You have an answer for everything, don't you."

"Yes. You need to back off, Cobb." Eames voice was dangerous. "Or I make a phone call. A phone call that could make life very difficult for you as well. Because, who, ultimately, gave Arthur the gun?"

Cobb stood, shellshocked.

"Yes, Dom," Eames smiled at him. "You gave Arthur the gun. You took Arthur to Berlin, and kept on trying to convince him to leave me. Prosecution could nail you for complicity in this. Best friend takes pity on poor little Arthur, and provides him with a gun. Arthur brings the gun upstairs…you see where this is going?"

Cobb nodded, dumbly.

"Think about it Dom," Eames hissed. "How long could you get? Ten years? Miss your children growing up? Oh, I forgot, you're doing that already."

Cobb glared at him. "You piece of shit. Give me a reason right now not to blow your fucking head off!"

"Oh, I wouldn't go there, Dom." Eames smiled again. "That sounds like a threat. Why don't you run along and see if Arthur's ok. He's not a very good boyfriend, is he? Its not as if he's visiting."

Cobb left Eames, in a daze. He walked back to room 4, wondering when he could wake up from this nightmare. As he pushed open the door, he sucked in his breath.

Arthur had gone.


	37. Chapter 37

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me, all readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Arthur leaned over the stone engraved bridge, looking down at the river. For a split second, he wished he had the courage to finally just throw himself off it.

How had his life – a life that many would envy – transformed into this Kafkaesque nightmare of lies, betrayal, and dark secrets? The sun warmed his face, and he felt a pang of bitterness as he watched people walking past him – people wrapped up in their own lives, probably happy, probably productive, not knowing or caring that the pale, slender young man on the bridge was using his expensive three piece suit to cover a collection of bruises, burns, and marks. That his fixed, rigid expression was used to keep a mask on feelings of intense pain. He knew he was often considered cold, or standoffish, or even snobbish – but it was to avoid anyone seeing the worthless, cringing creature he was.

Brushing away a tear, he leaned over. The clear, sparkling water triggered a memory. Their second anniversary together. He'd arrived at work to find an envelope on his desk, under a rose. He'd opened it, pulled out the sheet of card inside, and gasped.

A plane ticket to Rome. First class.

He'd turned round to see Eames, smiling at him. "Do you like it, Artie?"

Arthur couldn't stop himself from smiling. "Oh, yes!" He looked at Eames. "We have to see the Coliseum, the Vatican, and visit the museums!"

Eames smiled. "Whatever you wish, Artie."

They'd left for the airport at 3pm that afternoon, and spent the flight drinking the complimentary champagne, with Arthur feeling the effects by the time they landed. They'd taken a cab to the hotel, with Arthur seeing the sheer beauty of Rome through an alcohol induced haze. When they'd arrived at the hotel, a five star establishment overlooking the centre of the city, the receptionist had smiled knowingly at Eames, before signing them in.

When they'd got upstairs, and the door had swung open, Arthur had gasped.

Eames had had the suite filled with roses. Vases on the furniture, with petals, red and white, scattered across the bed. Eames had simply bent down, scooped Arthur up, and carried him to the bed. Laying him on it, he'd proceeded to undress him, decorating his neck and chest with kisses. He handled him as though he were unwrapping precious, expensive glassware, and once he was naked, proceeded to undress himself.

Arthur never saw the Coliseum, or Vatican City. He didn't get to visit the museums, or art galleries. The entire two days was spent in bed, with Eames either on top or under him. Room service delivered their food, and the maids didn't even try and enter, not to even bring them fresh towels. For two whole days, they were enclosed in their own bubble of passion and desire.

The day they left, Arthur finally persuaded Eames to let them get up. Reluctantly, the older man did so, but insisted they go outside. As they walked, they came to a river, and Arthur paused.

"Whats wrong?"

Arthur turned to Eames, his heart starting to pound. "Eames. This has been a wonderful weekend. But…" his voice trailed off.

"But what, Artie?"

"But when we go home, are we going to-" Arthur couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

"But what?" The Forger looked at him. "Fight, argue? All couples fight, Arthur. I'm sure even Cobb and Mal fought at some point."

Arthur looked at Eames. "I don't think Cobb ever hit Mal."

Eames shrugged. "I'm not Cobb. You're not Mal."

Arthur took a deep breath.

"Eames. Why did you bring me out here? We've spent two days, in Rome, one of the most beautiful, cultured cities in the world, and spent the entire time in the hotel. Was it to prove how good you are in bed? Because its worked, but-"

"But what?" The Forger's eyes narrowed, dangerously. "Are you saying that this wasn't good enough for you? Where would you have preferred I burned my wallet to take you? Paris? French Riviera? Morrocco? You really are a spoiled little brat. Its never enough for you, is it? I'm never enough for you! Whats wrong, where you planning on spending the weekend scoping out some handsome Italian stud, whilst I sat at the hotel bar by myself?"

Arthur felt himself growing bewildered. "No, Eames, I didn't mean it like that. Its just – you've brought me to Rome, we could have stayed in a hotel in the city…"

"Oh, I'm so sorry." The Forger's face was growing progressively redder. "Here it is, my surprise to you, to celebrate the fact we're still together, and you're acting as though it was all too much trouble for you. Tell you what, Artie, on our third anniversary, I'll just go somewhere by myself, and leave you at home. How's that?"

"I didn't mean that!" Arthur was beginning to lose his patience. "But we could have done things this weekend, Eames, as well as-"

The Forger's fist slammed straight into his face. Taking a step back, Arthur gasped.

"Happy anniversary, darling," Eames spoke stiffly. "I'm going back to clear my stuff – I'll see you at the airport."

He strode off, leaving Arthur feeling his face, and the slight trickle of blood from his nose. He knelt down on the river bank, and scooped up a handful of the cold, clear water, The shock of it on his skin made him gasp.

He'd walked back to the hotel, in a daze. Upon arrival, Eames had cleared his stuff from the room. Arthur had collected his bags, and gone to the airport, only to find Eames was not there.

He'd asked the check in staff, explaining they were together.

The young woman had looked tense. "But Mr Eames…" she looked uncomfortable.

"Yes?" Arthur pressed her.

"He took the earlier flight. He left a message for you, Signor Richards."

Swallowing, Arthur took a piece of paper from her, and unfolded it.

_I need some space. See you at home. E._

The flight back was long, and lonely. Arthur rejected the champagne, sticking to water. In the taxi, he was monosyllabic, refusing to even look at the driver. Upon entering, he found the house was empty, and dark.

Leaving his flight bag in the hallway, he'd gone to bed. He'd fallen asleep, and been woken in the early hours by hot, whisky scented breath.

"I'm sorry, Darling," a voice had slurred huskily in his ear. "I'm sorry. That was shitty of me. Let me make it up to you."

The sex had been intense. So had Arthur's tears.

Straightening up, Arthur blinked back another tear, and then turned away from the river. He looked up, as a plane flew overhead. Swallowing, he began to walk.


	38. Chapter 38

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

"What do you mean, he's gone?" Eames actually sounded nervous.

Cobb looked at the Forger, his eyes burning through him. "He's gone. Not here. Just left."

Eames swallowed. "Well, we'll have to find him!"

Cobb turned.

"What do you mean, 'we'll?'" His voice was harsh. "You aren't going to do anything! Don't you think you've already done enough damage for one lifetime?"

Eames glared at the Extractor.

"Arthur is my partner. We own a house together. I think I have a right to know where he is!"

"Why?" Cobb's voice was getting progressively louder. "For what reason, Eames? So you can beat the shit out of him again, over some imagined slight? So you can taunt him for reasons best known only to you? So you can try and frame him for –"

"It's just my word against his-"

"-No, its forensic evidence, a doctor's report, and your word against his! Do you really think those bruises fade so easily? Do you really think they can't check the gun to see who actually shot it? Do you really think you're going to get away with this, that I'll let you?"

Eames leaned forward to the Extractor.

"What are you going to do, dob me in?" His voice was low and threatening. "For the last few years, you've been running a business that isn't exactly legal. You make a claim against me, I'll just produce a pile of evidence about all the little activities that you've got up to. If I go down, you and Arthur go down as well. And this may surprise you, but corporate espionage – that's exactly what you do – is looked upon less favourably in courts than what I've done."

Cobb swallowed. "You wouldn't."

"I would, trust me." He smiled. "Face it, Dom, game over. I win."

* * *

Arthur unlocked the door of the house. A shaft of sunlight fell through the glass panelled door, warming his face. He shuddered.

Then, he headed for the bedroom. Pulling his flight bag out of the wardrobe, he proceeded to open the case and fill it mechanically with shirts and underwear. Going into the bathroom, he picked up his shaving kit and shower gel.

He checked his flight bag. He still had, he noted with relief, the forged passport belonging to "Michael Palmer." And the credit card.

Going to the phone, he rang for a taxi. Sat in a chair, and waited.

* * *

Cobb walked out of Eames' room, feeling more angry and frightened than he ever had. He suddenly realised, with a sinking feeling, that he had underestimated Eames. He had known the Forger was cunning, but this level of malevolence was a new low.

But why? The Extractor thought. What justification did Eames have, aside from wanting to hurt Arthur? Or was it to hurt Cobb?

As he turned the corridor, he froze slightly.

Approaching Eames room were two uniformed police, and a plainsclothes.

Cobb turned, and hurriedly walked down the corridor, in the opposite direction.

* * *

The airport was busy, and crowded. Arthur decided to seek refuge in a Starbucks, ordering an Americano.

He pulled out his cellphone, and revolved it in his hand. Opening it, he pressed a number.

After a few rings, the phone was answered.

"Hello?"

"Ariadne? Its Arthur."

Silence.

"Listen, I know you probably don't want to talk to me…" he felt his voice breaking. "But I need – I want – "

Ariadne's voice was subdued.

"Where are you, Arthur?"

"I'm-" he paused. "I'm going on a trip. Cobb has asked me to do some research."

"When will you be back?"

"When I can be. Listen, tell Cobb not to worry."

"Arthur-"

"Goodbye."

He closed the cell, and put the phone in his pocket.

* * *

Cobb drove. He decided he had to get back to the house, to find out if the Point Man was still there. And to warn him.

* * *

The boarding for the flight was called. Shouldering his flight bag, Arthur gulped the rest of his Americano, and walked towards the departure gate.

* * *

As Cobb arrived, he noted that Arthur's car was back in the driveway. Hoping, he slammed the door and ran out.

The door was slightly ajar.

Going into the house, he realised the air was disturbed, as though someone had been in recently. Running upstairs, he went straight to the bedroom. Opening the closets, he found that the majority of Arthur's clothes had vanished. Along with his black flight bag, that he used for every job.

Cursing, Cobb slammed his fist into the door. Suddenly, his cellphone began to vibrate.

* * *

The flight was calm, and pleasant. The Point Man began to relax for the first time. A young Flight Attendant was especially careful, offering him water, coffee, food. As he left, she smiled and bid him to have a pleasant time. He thanked her.

The cab drive from the airport was short, and as it approached his destination, he began to feel nervous. Getting out, he walked up the steps, choosing to ignore the appraising glances from people.

As he approached the glass panelled door, his heart started to pound. Knocking on it, he swallowed.

"Come in!" a voice answered.

Arthur pushed it open. Miles, his head bent over a sheath of blueprints, looked up, his eyes widening and then a look of thankfulness settling on his features.

"You came, son," he said simply. "Are things really that bad?"

Arthur nodded. "Miles, things are…things are fucking awful…" a wave of tears broke and he slumped. Miles merely got up, and pulled him into his arms as he cried.


	39. Chapter 39

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews are appreciated, thank you!**

"Right, Mr Eames," the young detective smiled sympathetically. "I appreciate you've been through a very traumatic experience, but I need to ask you a few questions. If at any time, you don't remember, please tell me."

Eames swallowed, and nodded.

"OK," the detective flipped open a small notebook. "When did you become aware there was an intruder in your house?"

Eames took a breath. "It was when I heard Arthur shout 'get out!' I was in the kitchen, putting some things away. I'd been grocery shopping. I immediately went looking for Arthur – I thought maybe a stray cat or dog had come in through the bedroom window."

He paused. The detective's eyes were bright. "Please continue."

"I went into the bedroom, and saw a man pointing a gun. At Arthur." Eames paused again, tears beginning to shimmer in his eyes.

The detective leaned forward.

"Well, I shouted at him. No-one comes into my house and threatens my partner. No-one. He then turned round, with the gun still in his hand. I decided to try and take the gun off him."

The detective looked slightly surprised. "That was a brave thing to do, Mr Eames. Some might say it was foolhardy."

"I didn't consider it to be brave, merely an act of self-defence."

The detective nodded. "Please go on."

"I went towards him, and tried to grab his arm. He lowered the gun, and shot me in the calf. I collapsed, and…all I remember then is waking up here, in hospital."

Eames sank back onto the pillows. The detective's face was inscrutable.

"What did your partner do?"

"Called an ambulance for me."

The detective swallowed. "Mr Eames. There are some things that don't really make sense in this. I'm not sure I'd be able to go for someone who was holding a gun in my house if I were unarmed. Also, you said you thought a stray cat or dog had got in – forensics have been to the house, they found no trace of an open window in the bedroom."

"Did I say bedroom? I meant bathroom."

A silence was beginning to hang in the air. The detective looked at Eames, scrutinising him. Eames merely looked back, blankly.

The detective tried again. "Mr Eames-"

"Do you think I'm making this up?"

"No". The detective spoke honestly. "But I think you've suffered a trauma, and perhaps aren't remembering as clearly as you could do under better circumstances."

"You're absolutely right I've suffered a trauma. To see my partner, my beautiful partner, who I would rather die than see hurt in any way being threatened with a gun-" Eames' face quivered.

"I would like to speak to your partner." The detective looked at Eames. "If I may."

"You can if you wish," Eames spoke calmly. "But he's not here. I told him to visit relatives."

"Where are they?"

Eames shrugged. "I don't know."

* * *

"Where are James and Phillippa?"

"With their grandmother. It's a small apartment, and I'm putting in up to fourteen hour days on this project." Miles turned round from the hob. "Tea? Coffee?"

"Coffee would be great, thank you."

Miles busied himself for a few minutes, measuring coffee granules into a cafetiere. After the water was boiled and poured, he turned to pull two mugs off the shelf. Added milk, then poured in the steaming black liquid. Picking them both up, he turned and placed one in front of Arthur.

"So, what did he do this time?"

Arthur swallowed. "What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean. What has Eames done to you now?"

Arthur felt his lip begin to quiver. "He shot himself."

"What? Where?"

"In the calf," Arthur spoke tonelessly. "We were in the bedroom…he tried to hit me, I moved. He found I had a gun with me. He shot himself, and then told me that if I went to the police, he'd tell them I brought the gun to the bedroom. Its my gun, Miles. I could go down for intent to commit murder."

"I see." Miles took a sip of coffee. "And you believe this, do you?"

Arthur blinked.

"Arthur," Miles leaned forward. "When are you going to realise that Eames dominates you, rules you by fear? A jury would take one look at the photographs of your body, and rule against Eames. Deliberate provocation, I believe its called."

"But that's not all."

"Why not?"

"Cobb bought me that gun. If that's found out – everything about extraction will be exposed, and he could go down as well. That's his life over."

"No, it won't come to that." Miles took another sip of coffee. "Arthur, you really have to stop trusting him. Everything Eames says to you, you believe. Can I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead," Arthur said dully.

"Why are you with him?"

Arthur looked at Miles, tears shining in his eyes.

"Because he says that despite my faults, he loves me. And I'm not sure who else would."


	40. Chapter 40

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Cobb opened the door. His heart sinking, he saw a uniformed police officer, and a plainscloth detective standing in the hallway.

"Are you Dominic Cobb?"

Cobb swallowed. "Yes."

"We have some questions we'd like to ask you, regarding the incident at the home of Arthur Richards. His partner told us that you were the employer for both."

Cobb felt his stomach flip over. "Would you like to come in, detective-?"

"Leeds. Thank you." Both men stepped through the hallway.

The Extractor cleared his throat. "Would you like tea, coffee, water?"

"No thank you, Mr Cobb." The detective flipped open his notebook. "We don't want to take up any more of your time than is absolutely necessary."

Cobb settled into a seat opposite the two men, his heart beginning to pound.

"I just need to ask you a few questions," Leeds spoke reassuringly. "Firstly, how long have you known Mr Richards and Mr Eames?"

"Eight years and five."

"Thank you." He scribbled down in his book. "And how long have they been together?"

"Just over two years – no possibly closer to three."

"I see." He looked at Cobb. "How would you describe their relationship?"

* * *

Arthur lay in bed, feeling the warm Californian sunshine dance across his face. After two days with Miles, he felt more relaxed than he had in weeks.

Miles was insisting that he come with him to the University each morning. He'd pointed out that he could access the campus, and just simply wander. Arthur had a suspicion that it was partially due to Miles wanting to keep an eye on him, and partially to stop him brooding. But he acquiesced, and looking at the clock, realised that he had less than an hour to get up and get ready.

After stumbling out of the shower, he headed to the kitchen. Miles was standing at the counter, frying bacon.

"Morning!" Miles greeted the younger man. "Sit yourself down."

Arthur did as he was told, and poured coffee from the cafetiere into a mug. Adding milk, he watched it swirl into its inky depths.

"Ready for another day of University life?"

The Point Man smiled. "Absolutely."

"Good. It seems to be doing you some good." Miles slid bacon onto a plate, and added two pieces of toast. "Here. Eat this."

Arthur sandwiched the bacon between the toast, cut it, and bit into it. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Miles seated himself opposite Arthur, and poured himself another cup of coffee. "There is something I need to ask you, though."

Arthur chewed and swallowed. "Sure."

"Have you told Dom where you are?"

The Point Man went red, with guilt. "No, I haven't. I'm worried that-"

"Eames will find out. I'll deal with him if he turns up, don't you worry. But you need to tell Dom. Please, Arthur. Call him."

* * *

Cobb tried to keep a bland expression on his face. "How do you mean, describe their relationship?"

Detective Leeds smiled, patiently. "I mean, how did Mr Richards and Mr Eames get along? Did they have a good relationship with each other? Were they happy?"

The Extractor swallowed. "How is this relevant to your enquiry? Eames was shot by a house intruder, you know that."

"Mr Cobb." The detective leaned forward, his expression becoming one of scrutiny. "Mr Eames was shot by an intruder into his house. His partner was a witness, and he's disappeared. We need to question him about what he saw – not what people think he saw."

"Are you implying that Arthur had something to do with this?" The minute the words left his mouth, Cobb cursed himself.

Detective Leeds looked calmly at Cobb. "Why do you assume we think that, Mr Cobb? I'm merely implying that Mr Richards has suffered a traumatic event. He's vanished. We're concerned that he may be suffering from post-traumatic stress, and might therefore be in danger. I'll repeat the question, if I may. Did Mr Eames and Mr Richards have a good relationship."

Cobb took a deep breath. "Yes."

The detective leaned forward. "Did you ever see them argue, disagree?"

"Don't all couples?"

Leeds smiled wryly. "Yes, touché. But, I'm asking you about this couple. Did you ever see them argue?"

"No."

"Would you say they were devoted to each other?"

"Yes." Cobb realised that that was true. He'd never seen anyone cover up for Eames as much as Arthur. "Arthur really loves Eames, trust me. And vice versa."

"Do you know where Mr Richards has gone?"

"No, I don't." Cobb looked at Leeds. "I honestly don't."

Leeds closed his notebook. "OK, I think that's it. If you hear from Mr Richards at all, please contact us. Have a good day, Mr. Cobb."

As Cobb saw the detectives out, his cell began to vibrate. Pulling it out of his pocket, he unfolded it. "Hello?"

* * *

Arthur wandered into one of the campus coffee bars, the smell of freshly ground espresso assaulting his senses. Going to the counter, he ordered an Americano, then took it to sit at one of the tables.

After a few minutes of examining the campus newspaper, he suddenly became aware of another presence looming near the table. His heart beginning to pound, he looked up. An attractive, dark haired man was standing in front of him.

"Hi." The man smiled.

"Hello." Arthur smiled, uncertainly.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" The man gestured to a chair.

"No, not at all." Arthur turned back to the newspaper.

"Actually, sitting here is only the first thing I want to do."

Arthur looked up, surprised. "Excuse me?"

The man smiled. "Sitting here is only the first thing I want to do. The second is to ask if I can take you out for dinner."

Arthur blinked in shock. The man was very good looking, he surmised, with strong clean features, and a warm, ingratiating smile. He felt a surge of anxiety.

"I don't think that's…possible."

"Oh." The man looked disappointed. "I'm sorry to hear that. A good looking guy like you shouldn't be alone-"

"I'm not alone!" Arthur snapped. "I actually live with someone. I'm not just some casual pick up! Why don't you go and bother someone else?"

The man's face flamed red, and he stood up so quickly that half of Arthur's Americano sloshed over the cup. "I meant alone by yourself in this city. I wasn't asking you for a quick fuck, and whilst you've probably turned down more sex than I have, you have no right to speak to me like that." He glared at the Point Man. "You know, maybe the cliché is true. Pretty face, shit personality. I pity the guy you live with. He must find you utter hell." Turning, he stormed back across the vinyl floor, to the door.

Looking down into his rapidly cooling, coffee, Arthur felt a few tears begin to fall.


	41. Chapter 41

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Eames grabbed on to the top of the taxi's doorframe as he carefully pulled himself out. After handing the driver a twenty, he grabbed his cane, and walked slowly, with a slight limp to the door. Putting his key in the lock, he paused, before turning and pushing the door open.

"Arthur?" He called out, hopefully. "Arthur?"

Wincing, he moved slowly into the hallway. The air was musty, with a stale scent. Grimacing, he turned and made his way to the living room.

There was no evidence that anyone had been there. The cushions on the couch were in place; there were no new newspapers. Eames suddenly remembered the pile of mail he had trodden on.

He moved towards the CD racks. Arthur insisted on keeping his in alphabetical order. Eames tipped the rack, watching them slide out and crash on the floor. With his good leg, supported by the cane, he began to stamp on them.

Satisfied with the destruction, and narrowing his eyes, he moved towards the kitchen.

* * *

Arthur sat by the campus lake, staring dully at the shimmering water. The bright sunlight reflected into his eyes, temporarily blinding him.

The scene in the coffee bar had reduced him to tears. Convinced others were looking at him, with either contempt or pity, he'd forced himself to finish the tepid Americano and then move as slowly and inconspicuously as possible out of the room. The lake had seemed a perfect distraction.

Hugging his knees to his thin torso, the stranger's words echoed in his head – "pretty face, shit personality." He shivered. What had been said to him had gone through his own head on many occasions.

A memory floated into his mind. Eames had received a phone call from a business associate, inviting him out to dinner. Eames had insisted Arthur accompany him, as he felt it would be good for Arthur to get out more, meet new people. Arthur had been reluctant, but he'd got dressed up, and gone with him.

The dinner had been somewhat strained. The associate had been drinking before the meal, and was insistent that Arthur and Eames keep up with him. Arthur had downed a scotch, and then felt he should switch to water for the rest of the evening. But Eames had glared at him in a manner that had resulted in him ordering a bottle of red wine. Half the bottle had gone before the meal was halfway through. Eames was already through a bottle and starting his second.

Arthur had focused on his food, letting Eames and his associate talk. He'd felt Eames hand on his thigh at a couple of point, and each time, his thigh had been gripped, hard. Arthur had taken that as his cue to join the conversation, but he'd felt uncomfortable in the presence of the two increasingly drunk men, and made comments that he'd intended to be witty, but had fallen flat. Eventually, he'd withdrawn into himself, and not spoken at all. At this point, Eames' grip on his thigh had turned into a vice.

The journey back to the house that night had been silent, with Eames avoiding looking at him. As they entered, Arthur had found himself grabbed by the shoulders, and pushed straight up against the wall.

"You…" Eames had hissed at him, his eyes narrowed.

"What?" Arthur had felt emboldened by the strong wine. "What am I, Eames? You tell me."

"You're boring…stuck up…repressed…" Eames had spat in his face. "Why do I put up with you? Oh, I forgot, its because no-one else would."

"You don't have to," Arthur spoke, despite the tears running down his face. "If you feel that way Eames, then just go fuck yourself."

A slamming blow to the stomach had left him doubled over with pain. Eames, enraged, and grabbed him by the back of his shoulders and shoved him back into the wall.

"Go fuck myself? It would be more entertaining than fucking you!" The Forger jeered. "But you might get lonely!"

He'd stormed out, leaving Arthur crumpled up. After a few minutes, the Point Man had got up, and walked into the kitchen. Eames was sitting there, slumped. Tears shining in his eyes, he looked at Arthur.

"I'm sorry, Arthur," he spoke, brokenly. "Too much alcohol, it turns me into an animal. You know I'm not really like that."

Arthur moved to the Forger, and let himself be drawn into a kiss.

Blinking, Arthur shook his head. Pretty face. Shit personality. If he had a better one, he thought, maybe his boyfriend wouldn't feel the need to hurt him. But that was also what a stranger had thought. He was lucky to have Eames. At least he tolerated him.

* * *

Swallowing hard, Cobb answered the cell phone. "Hello?"

"Dom? Its Miles."

Cobb exhaled his breath in a gasp. "Miles. Thank Christ you called."

Miles laughed, a warm, friendly sound. "Why thank you. Listen, Dom, its about Arthur."

Cobb's stomach clenched. "What is it?"

"He's with me."

Cobb exhaled with relief. "Fantastic. Keep him there. Do not let him come back, Miles. I don't care if he begs or pleads. I'm coming to join you."

* * *

Holding a knife, Eames moved slowly and painfully up the stairs. Entering the bedroom, he noticed that too had been unoccupied. Moving to the closet, he threw the doors open, to reveal Arthur's suits, hanging in a neat row.

A twisted smile played across his face. His fist clenching the knife, Eames tore into the expensive fabric, taking pleasure in hearing it rip. Shreds began to fall on the floor, followed by larger pieces.

"This is what I'll do to your suits, you little cunt," he muttered under his breath. He took a step back to admire his handiwork.

"Then I'll think about what I'll do to you."


	42. Chapter 42

**Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Cobb checked the contents of his flight bag. He had everything he needed for the flight. Hoisting it over his shoulder, he walked to the front door of his apartment. As he opened the door, he put a foot forward and suddenly realised he was stepping into something soft.

Cobb blinked, and looked down. At his feet was a black bag, bulging and misshape. Puzzled, he leaned down and opened it. When he saw the contents, his eyes widened with horror.

* * *

"So, why is Cobb coming?" Arthur's voice was anxious as Miles patiently poured out tea.

"I've told you. He Insists that you stay here, he wants to talk to you." Miles pushed a mug towards Arthur. "Nothing bad."

Arthur swallowed. "He'll tell me to leave Eames."

"Dom will do nothing of the sort." Miles spoke firmly. "He only wants you to think through your options. Tell me Arthur, is staying with Eames and getting beaten to a pulp really a way to live your life? You're young, good looking, intelligent, and wealthy. I'm sure that you can carve out a good life on your own. I'm equally sure you could find someone who actually values and respects you."

"Its not that easy." Arthur's voice started to break.

Miles looked at him. "It won't be. And its not fair. But the way he's treated you Arthur – surely you can see that-"

"Yes!" Arthur got to his feet, nearly overtipping his chair. "Yes, I can see! I can see that its wrong, its sick, and its not normal! But who are any of you to judge? Cobb's marriage wasn't perfect, and neither was yours!"

Miles' face paled. Arthur, blanching, put his hand over his mouth and ran from the room.

* * *

Cobb knelt down, and pulled out the contents of the bag. A pile of shredded cloth soon surrounded him. Running his hands through it, he realised that the shreds had formerly been Arthur's shirts, suits, and ties.

Cobb swallowed. Arthur's suits. Eames had often commented on how good Arthur looked in a suit. How the angular lines and sharp tailoring suited him. He also remembered how Eames had commented that Arthur's insistent on fine tailoring meant he would most likely be absolutely filthy in bed. Picking up the ruined fabric, Cobb wondered if this was a metaphor, or a warning.

* * *

Arthur had left the apartment Miles was renting, and run down the steps to the beach. He wanted to get away, needed to.

Sitting on the warm, golden sand, he let the sun burn against his face, and listened to the waves. The laughing, joking voices of a group of college students playing volleyball caught his attention, and he turned and looked at them. A bizarre hatred twisted his heart.

They looked so normal. So healthy. So carefree, free form the worries of a difficult relationship and a troubling job. Free from a boss-cum-best friend who was on his way to deliver a lecture and advice. He rubbed his head. Everything seemed too stifling, too trapping.

He got up. And began to run.

* * *

Cobb stood in the airport lobby, when his cell began to buzz. Sighing with irritation, he pulled it out, and flipped it open.

"Did you find the bag?"

Cobb's muscles tightened in his stomach. "Yes, Eames, I did. Thank you."

"Not a problem." The Forger laughed. "Now think what it would have looked like if Arthur had still been wearing them."

"Is that a threat?"

"Now, Cobb, I don't threaten Arthur, I just-"

"Hit him. I know." Cobb's anger was building. "But its never his face, Eames, is it? Its never his face. But you hit everywhere else."

"Oh, of course. I'm surprised it took you so long to work it out. But then, sensitivity was never your strong point, was it Dom? I mean, look at you and Mal."

"If you say one word about my wife again," Cobb's voice was ice, "I swear I'll kill you."

The Forger chuckled. "No, you won't. You've already been questioned by the police, your under suspicion. Just let me go, Dom. I'll find Arthur, and give him a make-up gift, ok?"

"Eames." Cobb's voice was toneless. "You abuse him. You hurt him. You-"

"Raped him." Eames voice was taunting. "Did he tell you that? No? Oh, I guess you're not as close as you thought. Ta ta."

Cobb heard the connection click off. His head was splitting.

* * *

Arthur ran down the beach, not caring who saw him or what they thought. The surf lapped at his ankles, and the sand kicked up from under his feet. After thirty minutes, he collapsed in the waves, letting the salt water lash at his face, his body, his hands,

He wished it would just carry him away.

"Dom!" Miles hugged his son-in-law. "Good to see you!"

Cobb smiled wearily. "And you. Where is he?"

"I'm not sure." Miles swallowed. "We- had words. I told him that he didn't need to stay with Eames, and he lashed out."

"Oh Christ." Cobb looked at Miles. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine Dom." Miles' tone was reassuring. "But its Arthur I'm worried about."

Cobb opened his mouth. "Hopefully he'll-"

The screen door in the kitchen banged. Both men looked at each other. "Arthur?" Cobb called out.

"Yeah?"

Cobb sighed with relief. "Thank Christ you-re-" he broke off. The Point Man was soaked, with sand clinging to his back.

"What?" Arthur spoke. "Wet?"

"You're allright." Cobb spoke evenly.

"I know why you're here, Dom, save it." Arthur looked at him boldly, defiantly.

"Why am I here, Art?"

"To stop me from going back to Eames." Arthur looked at him with defiance. "But its not your decision, its mine!"

"OK." Cobb swallowed. "Yes, its your right to go back to a psychopath who drinks too much, wants sex non-stop, and beats the shit out of you. Oh, and does this to your clothes." He opened his suitcase, and pulled out several ragged fragments of Arthur's suits. The Point Man blinked with shock.

"Imagine if you were still in them."

"Stop it!" Arthur put his hands over his ears. "Just stop it! You don't know him like I do!"

"I know enough!" Cobb's voice was beginning to rise. "Stay here, don't go back to him, you don't deserve this!"

"Yes, I do."

Cobb walked over to the Point Man, and put his hands on his shoulders. "You don't, Arthur, get over it!"

"Fuck you!" The Point Man screamed. "Fuck you, Dom, and your self-righteous bullshit! You don't know me! Eames has a right to do this! Don't you understand? I cheated on him!"


	43. Chapter 43

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Eames poured champagne into the glass and stroked his hand down the body of the man beside him. A tousled blonde head stirred, and squinted.

"Mmmm. Champagne."

"You want a glass?"

"Not going to say no." The man smiled. "You are paying, after all."

Eames handed him a glass. "Indeed I am. For the privilege of violating you physically. And for something a little…" he raised his eyebrows suggestively –"more dangerous. I have ropes in the wardrobe. Shall we?"

The male prostitute swallowed. "Listen, man. You're good looking, and you definitely made me cum, but I'm not into any kinky shit. I think I need to go."

Eames put his hand on the younger man's chest and pushed him down. "You're not going anywhere," he purred. "Its my money. I've bought you. Currently, I own you. Now shut up, and do as I say."

The man nodded, fear in his eyes. "Yes, Sir."

* * *

Miles tactfully disappeared into the kitchen. Cobb sat down, opposite Arthur. The Point Man's eyes were red and swollen.

"OK, Arthur," Cobb spoke soothingly. "You don't have to tell me everything. But it would help if you told me something."

Arthur looked at Cobb. "You won't like it." He blew his nose, and shuddered. "You won't. You'll think I'm a dirty slut, and just as bad as Eames."

"Not my place to judge." Cobb leaned forward. "Talk to me, Arthur."

The Point Man swallowed.

* * *

One Friday night, Eames had been in a strange mood. Restless, agitated. He'd kept looking at Arthur, opening his mouth to speak, and then closing it again. Finally Arthur's patience had snapped. "What?"

"Artie," Eames began, looking awkward. "How would you feel about – "

"What?" Arthur was growing exasperated.

"How would you feel about a threesome, with a male prostitute? We both get to have a turn."

Arthur looked at Eames. "Are you serious?"

"Yes." Eames looked at him, pleadingly. "Think about it. Sex for hire. No jealousy, no problem. We get to learn more about each other."

"OK…" Arthur spoke slowly. "But we need to use protection. I insist on that."

Eames beamed. "Of course. Listen, there's a very good agency that is utterly discreet. I'll give them a ring. We may as well invite a man over."

Arthur looked at him. "You want to do this _tonight?"_

"Don't be such a fucking prude, Arthur!" Eames' temper flared. "For weeks I've had to put up with you falling asleep on me as soon as you get into bed, and you have about as much physical interest in me as you would in a teddy bear! We need to spice things up. I'm ringing the agency. Go and put something sexy on. Your black jeans. They make your arse look sensational."

Dumbstruck, Arthur went upstairs.

Eames smiled as he pulled the ropes tight on the man's wrists, causing him to bump and graze the back of his head against the headboard. He winced.

"Do you do this with your partner?" His voice was barely a whisper.

Eames' eyes narrowed. "No. If I did, this would be round his neck."

The man had arrived forty minutes later. Young, mid twenties, with dark blonde hair and light brown eyes. He'd looked nervous and ill at ease.

Arthur went to him,. "Hi, I'm Arthur. Listen, you won't be doing anything you don't want to do."

"On the contrary Darling," Eames was pouring wine out for the three of them. "He'll be doing everything that we want. If he doesn't like it…he still gets paid. Five hundred dollars this is going to cost." He handed a glass of red to the Point Man. "But it'll be worth it to hear you moan."

Arthur took a sip of wine. He was beginning to feel nervous. Eames, smiling, pointed to the bedroom. "Lets go."

Once inside, the young man looked at both of them. His anxiety was beginning to show on his face. Eames was stripping off his shirt, revealing his muscular, tattooed upper body. "Clothing. Take it off. All of it."

Trembling, the man began to remove it. Arthur took a gulp of wine and tried to avert his eyes.

The man was gorgeous. He had a nicely defined abdomen, but, Arthur noticed with relief, it wasn't a six pack. He had muscle definition, but not too excessive. He was about the same height as Arthur, and looked at him. Arthur swallowed, and moved forward.

"That's it," Eames spoke softly. "Kiss him."

Arthur complied, and the man drew him into a long, deep kiss. Arthur ran his fingers up the naked torso, and let the man's hands explore and probe at his upper body. He began to pull at his own shirt.

"On the bed."

Arthur and the man wandered to the king size bed, their torsos still intertwined. Under Eames' wolfish gaze, they fell onto it.

"Right, Arthur." Eames voice was barely a whisper. "Take off your jeans. Then, strip him, and penetrate."

The young man stiffened under Arthur. Arthur leaned down, and brushed a stray lock of hair away from his ear.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

* * *

Eames lit a cigarette, watching as the end glowed red in the darkened room. The prostitute had left, with rope burns around his wrists, and a black eye. Eames smiled to himself. He'd given him an extra hundred bucks. And he knew that he wouldn't file a complaint with the police.

* * *

Eames watched as Arthur groaned and thrusted, with the man lying underneath him. He saw the sweat glisten on Arthur's torso, as he dug his hands into the man's sides. The prostitute moaned softly.

"OK." Eames got up, and moved to the side of the bed. "You. Get on top, and fuck him."

The prostitute looked at Eames. "I'm not being paid enough to do this. I thought you wanted us to be all in bed together, instead you-"

He stopped. Eames was glaring at him.

"I'm paying you for this." His voice was cold and soft. "You'll do as I say. Get on top. Stick it to him. Make him moan!"

Arthur looked at the prostitute. "Eames, let him go." His voice was authorative. "Please. I don't feel comfortable with this."

Eames swallowed. "Oh. I see." He looked at them both. "Well, I'm happy to do what you want, Arthur. If you don't want to have sex again with him-"

"I'd rather have sex with you." Arthur's voice was pleading.

Eames' face hardened, then relaxed. "Oh, I can't resist you. You know that. You-" he turned to the prostitute, who was shaking slightly. "Get dressed, and get out. I'll pay you two hundred less than agreed, and consider yourself lucky to get that."

The man nodded, and quickly threw his clothes on. Arthur moved towards him. "Let me see you to the door."

"You do that, Artie." Eames' tone was dismissive. "I'll get into bed."

Arthur walked the prostitute to the door. "Listen, I'm sorry."

The man looked at him. "No man, I'm sorry for you, living with a psycho like that. But thank you." He shuddered. "You were pretty damn good."

A ghost of a smile played around Arthur's lips. "Pretty good?"

The prostitute grinned. "You need to get away from him. Here's my card. Call me. Don't pay me. I'd just like to-" he paused, struggling for words. "See you again."

Arthur's brown eyes studied the card. "You know, Chris," he spoke softly, "I'd like to see you again, too."

Chris kissed him on the cheek, and left. Arthur turned the card over in his hand, knowing that he would see him again, and without paying for it. A smile played on his lips. Finally, a part of him Eames couldn't control.


	44. Chapter 44

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

"So, do you want to go for lunch?" Cobb smiled at Arthur. "I feel I hardly see you these days. "

Arthur blushed. "Well, full time job, my relationship- its just a very busy time. I'd love to, but I'm already meeting with someone this lunchtime."

"Oh?" Cobb's eyebrows went up. "Who?"

"A friend. Old college buddy. He's in town, and emailed me, so I said yes."

Cobb blinked. "Oh, ok. Have a good time. If you want to take an extension, thats fine."

Arthur smiled, a genuine one. "Thanks Cobb, I appreciate that."

* * *

As soon as Cobb had walked away, Arthur turned and hurried down the steps. Getting outside, he hailed a cab, and requested he be taken to a neighbourhood a few blocks away from the Warehouse.

Feeling like a fugitive, he walked to a diner. Checking his watch, he noted he was a few minutes early. He took a deep breath, pushed the door open, and walked in.

He was sitting at the back, shredding a paper napkin. Arthur walked over. "Hey."

Chris looked up. "Hey, I didn't think you'd make it." He looked down at the shreds covering the desk. "I thought you might be banned from coming."

Arthur stiffened. "He doesn't control me."

"Not completely. Not yet." Chris' eyes were boring into him.

Arthur could feel his breathing becoming shallow. "If you're going to make cracks about my relationship, I'm leaving. I mean it." Anxiety and guilt merged and were causing his head to start to throb.

"I'm sorry." Chris got to his feet. "I mean it, I'm sorry. Your relationship is your business, and its not my place to judge. I'm sure he loves you very much."

Arthur nodded. Pulling out a chair, he sat down.

Chris pushed a menu towards him. "Um, I'll pay."

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "I'm not comfortable with that, but if you insist...?"

"I do," Chris insisted. "Really, I do." He looked at Arthur from behind his menu. "So how long have you two been together?"

Arthur fiddled with his menu. "A little over two years."

"Wow. How did you meet?"

"At work."

Suddenly, Arthur glared at him. "I thought you said it wasn't your place to judge. Why are you questioning me? Its none of your business!"

Chris flushed. "I guess I was trying to see if I had a chance."

"Well, you don't! Established relationship – we live together! If Eames saw me here he'd-"

"Kill you?" Chris leaned back in his chair. "He has know idea where you are, does he?"

Arthur shook his head. Chris reached for his water glass, and took a sip.

"What do you want?" Arthur's breathing was becoming ragged. "Money?"

Chris looked shocked, then offended. "Look, I know what I do to earn money is probably pretty low, in your eyes. But I'm not going to blackmail you. If you want to stay with someone like that, its your lookout. But there's nothing to stop you from-"

"From what?"

"Well, having some fun. On the side. I won't ever tell if you won't." Chris took a languid sip of water.

Arthur's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

Chris leaned forward, and spoke very softly. "My apartment is just down the block. My flatmates will be out. You and I...alone..."

Arthur was so stunned he couldn't speak. "I know I said I wanted to see you again, but this is a bad idea. And its about to become a worst one." He stood up, and pushed his chair back. "I can't stay here with you. I need to get going."

Chris watched in silence as the Point Man straightened his clothes. At that moment, his cell phone rang. Pulling it out of his pocket, he groaned as he saw the caller id was Eames.

"Ignore it." Chris raised his eyebrows.

"If I do that, he'll think something is wrong."

"He's ringing you. He thinks something's wrong already. So, tell me, was that night how you two usually behave in your relationship? Or was it a special treat for the weekend?"

Arthur felt his face beginning to flush again. "Once again, its none of your business. I have to go." He was already constructing the apologies in his head. Thinking of what would happen when he encountered Eames.

Chris grabbed at his hand. "Don't. He already suspects you of something. Why not give him something to get really upset over?"

Arthur looked at him. "You have no idea. You really don't."

"What, you're just his toy, are you?"

A surge of defiance flared in Arthur. "I'm my own man, trust me." Leaning towards Chris, he whispered to him.

"So, where is your apartment, again?"


	45. Chapter 45

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me, all readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

"Cobb, have you any idea where Arthur is?"

The Extractor looked up. Eames was standing by his desk, looking slightly fretful. He was playing with his poker chip totem, threading it in and out of her fingers.

Cobb smiled, reassuringly. "He went for lunch with an old friend. I told him to take some time off, just enjoy himself."

Eames looked surprised. "He didn't tell me."

"Does he tell you everything?" Cobb was taken aback. "Isn't he entitled to-"

"What?" Eames glared at him.

"Some secrets." Cobb finished, lamely.

Eames' face was turning slightly red. "Secrets are dangerous, Cobb. Trust me." He walked away, leaving the Extractor feeling slightly stunned.

* * *

Arthur sighed, as Chris ran his fingers down his torso. He leaned over, and kissed his neck.

"You're amazing." He kissed him again.

Arthur smiled. "You're the one who knows how to touch me. Seriously, that was-" he broke off as Chris' hand slipped down to his groin, and began to caress him. Arthur moaned at his touch.

"You know, I like the fact you make a lot of noise." Chris grinned. "Means I'm doing it properly."

Arthur blushed. "Oh, God, I'm-"

"No, its great! It shows you're letting yourself go." Chris leaned against the pillows, and stretched. "I thought you'd be a bit controlled, buttoned up. It shows you have passion."

Arthur shrugged. "I'm good at being controlled."

"You said it. Does he tell you what to do in everything?"

Arthur felt himself becoming defensive. "No, he doesn't. Look, Eames is insecure. His family are not comfortable with him being gay. Plus, he's had a difficult past. He keeps saying he's not good enough for me, and I could do better. But, Eames is my first really serious relationship, and I want to make it work."

Chris was silent. "But you're not good enough for him, Arthur. He hurts you."

Arthur got up, and started looking for his shirt. "This was a mistake. A big one. Chris, I like you. But I'm not going to listen to you slating Eames. He loves me, I love him. This was a mistake."

Chris raised his eyebrows. "Oh, really? Didn't see you saying that when I was drilling you into the mattress. But I guess I can live with that." He rolled over. "When do you want to see me again?"

Arthur swallowed. "I don't."

"Yes, you do." Chris slid off the bed, and walked to the Point Man. "You really do." He kissed him hard, on the lips. "You want to see me again, you want to do this again."

"You're pressuring me. Stop it."

"Make me."

Arthur groaned. "Oh, Christ…" Leaning forward, he pulled Chris into a deep kiss, before pushing him down on the bed. Chris began to pull Arthur's shirt open. As the last few buttons ripped apart, Arthur bent his head down, towards his companion's crotch.

* * *

Eames checked his watch. It was half past six. He looked at the glass he was holding. Half empty. Getting up, he reached for the Scotch bottle, and poured a couple more shots in.

As a car drove past, his ears pricked up. He then sagged in his seat as it passed. Still no Arthur. He downed half the glass.

Another ten minutes passed. Eames was beginning to feel restless, and agitated. Getting up, he began to pace the floor, wondering what to say when Arthur finally re-appeared.

After another torturous ten minute wait, he heard the key in the lock.

"Eames?" Arthur called out. "Eames?"

"In here." The voice was low. Eames picked up his glass, and took another slug of Scotch.

Arthur walked in, smiling. "Hey! There you are!" He walked up, and kissed his partner on the cheek.

"You're very affectionate." Eames raised an eyebrow. "Guilty conscience?"

Arthur blinked. "No? Why?"

"Where were you this afternoon?"

"I had lunch with an old college friend."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes." Arthur sounded slightly exasperated. "An old friend, Michael. He emailed me, saying he wanted to meet for lunch. And now, I'm going to get changed, because we're going out."

"I've hardly seen you all day!" Eames sounded hurt. "You didn't even tell me that you were meeting someone!"

"Jesus Eames, what is this?" Arthur's temper flared. "Do I have to tell you everything? Stop being so damn needy! Its boring! I'm going to get changed, and then I'm going out! You can do what you like!"

Arthur turned and stalked off towards the stairs. Eames swallowed the last of his Scotch, staring after him.

Arthur, dressed in a pair of black jeans and a light shirt, grabbed his leather jacket from the hook in the hallway. "Bye!"

Eames heard the door bang. Pouring himself another Scotch, he switched off the lights.

* * *

Chris was waiting by the entrance. "Thought you weren't going to make it. Thought he'd have you chained to the bed by now."

Arthur glared at him. "I told him to stop being so needy, stop trying to interfere. He's at home."

"Fantastic." Chris pulled a small bottle out of his pocket. "Pill?"

Arthur looked at the bottle. "I don't think so, it could be-"

"Dangerous?" Chris' eyes narrowed. "Are you serious? You've just escaped the psycho, and now you're worried about a few little pills?" Chris put two in his hand and gulped them.

"I'm not worried, I'm just-"

"Worried." Chris looked at him, his eyes hard. "You and I had amazing sex this afternoon, when your boyfriend was safely tucked away in the office. You took a risk coming to see me. I'm a prostitute, Arthur. I could have given you anything. I could have mugged you, demanded your wallet. You're not going to make a complaint against me, are you? Can't have your employer knowing you fraternise with the likes of me. Can't have your boyfriend knowing you visited me to get yourself sucked off."

Arthur looked at Chris. "What are you saying?"

"Go home to your boyfriend, Arthur." Chris' voice was gentle. "This isn't the place for you. He treats you badly, but its ok."

Arthur looked at Chris. "Give me a pill."

Chris smiled. "Now you're talking."

Eames downed another glass of Scotch. He checked his watch. It was nearly midnight. He shifted in his seat.

Suddenly, his phone rang. "Hello?"

"Hey, is that Eames?"

"Yes? Who the hell are you? This is Arthur's number!"

"Its…Mike, Arthur's friend. You have to come to the hospital. He's collapsed."


	46. Chapter 46

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

The light was blinding. Arthur opened his eyes, only to grimace with pain and shut them again. He moved against the crisp linen, trying to clear his pounding head.

Hospital. He was in hospital.

"Artie? Can you hear me, darling?"

_Eames. _Arthur winced, and closed his eyes again. The memories of the previous few hours started to close in, and he remembered with growing horror what had happened.

* * *

The pills had been in Chris' hand. White, tiny, and harmless looking.

"Come on," Chris' face had been a smirk. "You sure you want some? Or are you really just that gorilla's little poodle?"

Arthur felt angry, and defiant. "Just give me one, ok?"

Chris grinned. "I'd like to give you two…but one will do for now." He handed it to the Point Man, who gulped it. Arthur smiled.

"Oh, it feels great," he lied. "Fantastic, lets go in!"

Chris' grin was nearly splitting his face. "They'll kick in in about ten minutes. Until then, I can be all the stimulation you need." He grabbed Arthur's t-shirt, pulled him close, and started to creep his other hand towards his crotch. "Come on," his mouth was hot and insistent. "Come on, lets go in."

* * *

Eames finished his scotch. Looking at the bottle, he poured another. And waited.

* * *

The club was unfamiliar territory to Arthur. Techno music was pounding at a deafening volume, whilst the air was thick with sweat and pheromones. Young men were writhing, dancing with abandon, or standing at the bar, trying to catch someone's eye. Arthur felt Chris lead him by the hand down to the centre of the club, and press up against him, hard.

"Oh, you feel…so good…" he whispered in Arthur's ear. "So good. Listen, there's a little alleyway out othe back, we can go and amuse ourselves there. How about it?"

Arthur felt the hands tugging insistently at his shirt. He also felt a strange sensation in his head – a slight buzzing that was becoming louder by the second. "I'm not sure," he whispered. "I'm feeling a little…fuzzy. I think I need a drink."

Chris leaned forward and licked his neck. "I'll get you one, stay here."

Chris turned and left Arthur on the dance floor. The Point Man felt increasingly confused – his vision was starting to blur. He turned, and found himself staggering to a quiet corner, where he grabbed hold of a standing beam. Laying his head against it, he felt a wave of nausea start to overcome him.

"Hey," a young man, with light red hair, approached him. "Are you ok, man?"

Arthur looked up. "I just need some fresh air," it came out as a gasp.

The young guy nodded. "OK, come with me."

Arthur allowed himself to be led outside. He was starting to feel weak, and shaky. He grabbed onto the other guy's arm as he felt his knees giving way.

"Hey!" The other guy grabbed at Arthur in a panic. "Hey dude, keep calm!"

Arthur, his head a swirling ménage of exploding light and colour, gasped raggedly in response.

Chris came back with two glasses of water. He looked confusedly as he saw Arthur had disappeared. "Hey, where'd you go?" He spoke out loud.

Another guy approached him. "Were you with that skinny dark haired guy?"

"Yeah, you seen him?"

The other guy gestured with his glass. "Outside. Drugfucked, by the look of him."

Chris dropped both glasses and ran to the stairs.

* * *

Eames sat by the bed, staring at Arthur. The phone call had been short, and panicked. He'd recognised the voice, that slightly nervous inflection, the attempted coarsening of the accent. He'd worked it out. He'd gently let him continue to talk.

"Where is he?"

"At the General."

"OK, Mike, I'll be right there."

Eames had arrived, only to find that "Mike" was nowhere to be seen. He'd been greeted by a young intern.

"Mr Richards is this way," the intern had gestured. "He took a dose of speed, and had a reaction. We've managed to bring his heart rate down, and we've put him on an IV to stop him getting dehydrated. But he's pretty shaken up."

"Don't worry," Eames had spoken quietly, "I'll be fine with him, Doctor."

The intern had smiled. "I'm sure you will be, Mr Eames." He directed him to the door of Arthur's ward room. "I'll leave the two of you alone."

Eames approached the bed. "Arthur?"

Arthur's eyes flickered, and he grimaced.

"Artie, darling, can you hear me?"

"Yes." His voice was hoarse and ragged.

"Did you have a good time with Mike? Obviously not. Taking speed…oh, Christ Arthur, if something had happened to you…"

"I'm sorry Eames." Arthur closed his eyes. "God, I'm sorry."

Eames leaned over and kissed his forehead. "I know you are. But don't worry, things will be fine. I'm discharging you."

Arthur's eyes flickered. "What?"

"Yes. You're coming home with me, and I'm going to take care of you."

Arthur turned and looked at Eames. "Take care of me?"

Eames smiled, a slow, malicious one. "Yes Artie. That's right."


	47. Chapter 47

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

"Did you sleep well, darling?"

Arthur rolled over in bed, and found himself looking at Eames. The Forger's face was creased with concern.

"Yes, I did." He swallowed. "I should get up, its probably late."

"Its half 9."

"Jesus, I should be at the –" he was silenced with a kiss.

"No, you shouldn't be." Eames' voice was firm. "You've just come out of hospital, and I'm looking after you. Stay there."

Arthur complied. As the day wore on, he grew more and more uneasy. Eames spent most of the time downstairs, and Arthur upstairs, in bed. Eames brought him things – soup, toast, and black tea. He tried to go downstairs, but Eames insisted he go back to bed. The nervousness in Arthur's stomach was starting to tie itself into a knot.

At about half seven, Eames came back upstairs. "Dinner?"

"I'm really not that hungry." Arthur swallowed. "Eames, we really need to talk."

The Forger nodded. "I agree. But, Arthur, listen. I know who you were with the other night. It was that prostitute, wasn't it?"

Arthur froze. "Yes."

The look on Eames' face was one of hurt. "Why, Artie?"

"I-" Arthur swallowed. "I don't know. You have to admit, things between us have been pretty rough. We don't really talk much, and you wanted a threesome, I felt quite hurt. Like I'm not enough for you."

Eames looked at the floor. "God, Arthur, what have I done? You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Without you, I'm nothing. And I go and upset you to the point where you prefer a prostitute."

"It was a stupid thing I did, Eames." Arthur rubbed his face with his hand. "And then I took drugs – I wouldn't blame you if you dumped me."

Eames took Arthur's hand. "Arthur. Its 8pm. Lets go out for dinner."

* * *

Despite his misgivings, Arthur complied. And half a bottle of wine later, he was starting to relax. By the end of the night, Eames was holding his hand across the table.

"Listen," Arthur said softly. "I have to-"

"Of course." Eames relinquished his grip. "Go ahead."

Smiling, Arthur walked to the restroom. He couldn't believe how things were working out. The last few months had been full of little niggles. Large walls of silence seemed to be building between him and the Forger, accompanied by a slow burning, simmering anger. Arthur had responded by spending more time at work; Eames by spending more time in bars. The prostitute, Arthur was now beginning to realise, had been Eames' way of trying to re-ignite the spark they had once felt. The passion.

Arthur ruffled his hair slightly, and smiled. He was starting to feel libidinous.

As he approached the table, Eames was smoking. He stubbed out the cigarette and smiled when he saw him.

"Lets skip dessert." Arthur murmured in his ear. "We can have it at home."

Eames smile was enough to split his face. "Perfect idea. Lets go."

The journey back was characterised by touching in the back of the taxi. As they got back to the house, Eames was practically unzipping Arthur's fly.

"Not here," Arthur whispered. "It feels…seedy."

Eames nodded. "Of course."

They went in, and then upstairs. Arthur tugged at Eames' shirt.

"Oh, you really want it, do you?" The Forger's voice was husky.

"Oh, yes," Arthur whispered.

"Why don't you strip, and then get on the bed?"

Arthur complied. Lying there naked, he felt a rush of pleasure. Eames straddled him, and grabbed his wrists. Arthur smiled. And then realised Eames was tying his wrists to the bed.

He coughed. "Eames?"

"Shut up." The Forger's tone was low and harsh.

"Eames?"

A stinging blow was delivered to his abdomen. He gasped.

"Hurts, does it?" The Forger's tone was biting. "Pity it isn't around your lovely little neck. You lying, little piece of shit. You turn your nose up at me hiring a whore, and then you go and fuck him yourself. Whats wrong with me? Why aren't I enough for you?"

Arthur swallowed. "Eames, please-"

"I don't please. Not tonight. You've hurt me Arthur – really hurt me. You know that the whore was only to get things going, spice things up. But you had to take his number, sneak out and meet him, sleep with him. You must think I'm really stupid!"

"Eames." Arthur's tone was low. "It was once. I was stupid, I know that. I'm sorry. So, so sorry. I love you, I really do-"

His words were silenced by a smack to the mouth. He tasted blood.

"You know, our relationship has to change." Eames glared at him. "I'm not going to take your shit anymore. You're pathetic. You're ugly, scrawny, and weak. You act as though you're a prince. Well, you're not!"

"I know." Arthur's voice was quiet.

"Just do as I say."

"Yes."

Eames got into bed, and reaching up, loosened the ties. Arthur curled up in the bed, the Forger pressed against him.

* * *

The next morning, everything was surprisingly calm. A few days passed, and everything seemed to be improving. Until Arthur woke up one morning, and realised he was nearly out of clean suits.

Cursing, he piled them up, and took them down to the kitchen. Realising he didn't have time to put them in, he wrote Eames a note, apologising.

When he came home from work, the suits were not done. After asking Eames, he had a brusied abdomen.

With a sinking feeling, Arthur realised that Eames would never forgive him or forget what he had done.

* * *

After hearing the entire story, Cobb looked at Arthur.

"And you stay because?"

Arthur swallowed. "Because without him, I'm nothing."


	48. Chapter 48

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Eames stretched, letting the sun play over his face. He looked at the empty side of the bed.

Arthur had been gone for over a week. Eames frowned. Swinging himself round, he stepped over an empty champagne bottle and headed for the kitchen, tying his robe on in the process.

Once downstairs, he headed for the kitchen. He was in the middle of measuring out coffee when the doorbell rang. He smiled.

"Arthur. Finally."

As he approached the door, he noticed it wasn't Arthur's slim profile behind the glass. Puzzled, he unlatched the door.

It was the detective. Wearing a kind smile, and holding a badge.

"Mr Eames? We spoke a week or so ago. Can I come in?"

Dumbstruck, Eames nodded.

* * *

"I don't get it." Cobb leaned forward in his chair, his face creased in expasperation. "Your relationship is horrific, Arthur. He hires prostitutes, he hits you, and when you cheat, you cheat on him with a prostitute he hires! What has happened? How did it turn into such a mess?"

Arthur hunched into himself. "I don't know."

"Look what he's done to you!" Cobb's voice was rising. "How many times have we had this conversation, Arthur? You used to be so confident, so sure of yourself."

"I know."

"So you cheated on him." The Extractor meant the Point Man's eyes. "But you were driven to it, Arthur. And let me guess – after that, the violence really started, didn't it?"

The Point Man nodded.

"You can't go back."

"Why not?"

Cobb leaned forward, and took Arthur by the shoulders. "Because if you do," he said softly, "he will kill you."

* * *

Eames faced the detective, and smiled. "How may I help you?"

The detective didn't return the smile. "Mr Eames, I'll be honest with you. I'm not entirely sure the facts of this case hang together."

Eames didn't blink. "Oh?"

"Well, we'd like some clarification on where your partner is." The detective flipped open his notebook. "You said he was with relatives."

"Yes."

"Who?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"No." Eames fixed the detective with a hard stare. "Arthur was suffering from shock. He'd just seen me get shot. I don't think its fair to insinuate-"

"I'm not insinuating anything," the Detective interrupted. "But your partner has disappeared, and you can't clarify where he is."

Eames shrugged. "He's probably in Conneticut. That's where his mother lives. His parents are divorced. I've no idea about his father."

"How long have you and Mr Richards been together?"

"Nearly three years."

"And in all that time you've never met his family?"

"They're a long distance away."

The detective looked at Eames, hard. "You don't seem very concerned."

"Arthur can take care of himself."

The detective stood up. "You'll be hearing from me again, Mr Eames. There is something about this that doesn't make sense."

Eames looked at the detective. "Of course. Let me see you out."

The detective smiled, sardonically. "Thank you, Mr Eames."

Glowering, Eames reached for his mobile phone.

* * *

Arthur looked at the Extractor. "So what should I do?"

"Just get far away from him. I'll get you another passport, another credit card. You can still do extraction, still hide. But you can never go back to him, Arthur. Ever."

At that point, Arthur's cell began to vibrate. He pulled it out of his pocket. "Hello?"

"Oh, hello, Artie, its me." The voice was taught and burning with anger. "I've just had a detective round, to ask about you and where you are."

"Eames?" Arthur tried to keep his voice calm. "Its over. I'm not coming back."

"Oh, that's what you think. But get this – you will. You can't handle it on your own. You always need someone to prop you up. If its not Cobb, its me. Its very silly."

"Eames." Arthur tried to keep his voice calm. "I'm not coming back."

"Oh, yes, you are." The phone clicked off.

Cobb raised his eyebrows. "Was that him?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes."

"OK." Cobb looked at him. "You still owe me one, Arthur. A job. A job in Berlin. We have to go back there."

"I thought-"

"We didn't finish it, remember?"

Arthur swallowed. "Do you think he'll follow us?"

"No. We're going. And you are not getting out of it. Go and pack."

Arthur complied, turning and walking out of the room. Cobb leaned against the apartment's fireplace, wondering what nightmare would erupt next.


	49. Chapter 49

**Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Arthur stood on the balcony of the hotel, watching the early dawn light play across the buildings on Berlin. As it changed from soft peach to pink, and then to gold, he felt himself shiver.

Padding back into the bedroom, Cobb was sitting in an easy chair. "You ok?"

"Yeah." Arthur ran a hand over his face. "Just hard to believe I'm back here, ok?"

Cobb smiled, reassuringly. "Arthur. I know its hard, but you have to try and think of yourself now. What type of life do you want? What do you want to do? You're young, you're good looking, you can build a life without Eames-"

"Stop it." Arthur turned away. "At the moment, I'm not sure what I want. I'm trying to accept I'm never going to see him again. I'm trying to accept that forever is over for us. I'm trying to accept that the guy who claimed to love me is the same one who tore my suits to shreds. Its hard. Its very hard."

Cobb looked at the Point Man. "I know."

"No, you don't." Arthur's face darkened. "You don't know, Dom. You don't know what its like to stay with someone in the hope things will get better. You don't know what its like to be with someone who tells you they live you and then gives you a black eye. I know I cheated on Eames. And I regret that. Because if I hadn't, we might still be together."

"No, Arthur." Cobb gave him a hard stare. "If you hadn't cheated on Eames, he would still have used you as as a punchbag. If you'd gained 20lbs and stopped dressing well, he still would have looked for an excuse to hurt you. If you'd quit extracting and got a desk job somewhere, he still would have found an excuse. Eames will always want to hurt you Arthur, always. You're his toy. You're his plaything."

Arthur was silent. He looked at Cobb. Tears were shining in his eyes.

"But- he's the only man who has ever really loved me, ok?" his voice was barely a whisper. "I was still a virgin at the age of 19. I'd kissed a couple of guys in High School, but nothing serious. When I was in college, I fell for an older man, a professor. He was married. We slept together, and had an affair for a couple of months."

Cobb's jaw dropped. Arthur continued.

"He told me he loved me. That I was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. But, he got scared. He told me he could never see me again, his position was too important, and he loved his wife. He dropped me from his course, cut me dead on campus. " His chin quivered. "Funny how you don't get over things like that."

"Arthur-"

"I know how you all see me. Boring Arthur, stick in the mud Arthur. When I was with Eames, I wasn't. Not at first. I felt passionate, alive. There were times when his back would be covered with scratches and blood. I did that."

"I'm not saying you have to justify this Art-"

"Yes, you are. You all are. I know it seems wrong to you, but, when things were good, they were amazing. When Eames is good, he's amazing, and I loved him for that."

"But he hurts you."

"I know he does. But I've hurt him." He rubbed his face. I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Cobb smiled. "OK. The case."

* * *

A few hours later, Arthur, dressed in black jeans and a leather jacket, went to the door of their hotel room.

"You going out?"

"Yeah. There's a club about ten minutes away – K-17. Thought I'd check it out."

Cobb raised his eyebrows. "It sounds pretty edgy."

Arthur smiled. "That's what I want."

"Have fun."

Arthur did not. The club was smoky, and too dark, and the music – a blend of 80s synth, goth, and industrial – was a bit too alternative for his tastes. Sitting in the courtyard, nursing a beer, he began to think again of Eames. Of curling up in his arms, feeling safe and protected. He sensed a presence at the table and looked up.

A young man was standing in front of him. "Are you alone?"

Arthur looked up. "Yes."

"May I sit down?"

"Of course."

The man was dark blonde, with light green eyes. He offered Arthur a packet of cigarettes. "Smoke?"

"No."

"Sex?"

Arthur blinked. "You're very forward."

"And you're very good looking."

An awkward silence fell. Arthur opened his mouth to speak. "Listen, I-" then he stopped. He looked at the stranger. He needed to be touched. He wanted it.

"Yes." He whispered. "Your place?"

The stranger smiled. "Its only a few minutes away."

* * *

Cobb put his paperback book aside and took a sip of water. He checked his watch. Midnight. Time for bed.

As he wandered from bathroom to bedroom, his cellphone rang. Irritated, he snatched it up. "Yes?"

"Cobb?" a broken, sobbing voice was coming from the receiver.

"Yes, who is this?"

"Its Eames." Another sob.

Cobb's patience snapped. "Eames. I don't have time for this. He's gone, get over it, and get out of that house."

"Oh, so you speak for him, do you?"

"Yes, I am. He's not here. He's gone out."

"Where?"

"How the hell should I know? Just go Eames. Just go."

"You hate me."

"Yes." Cobb didn't even bother to soften the words. "I do. I hate you for what you've done. And so does Arthur."

"If this is because of the police-"

"No. Its because you're a bastard."

The phone went silent.

"Don't worry, Dom." Eames' voice was faint. "I won't bother you again." There was a click. Cobb switched his cellphone off and dropped it on the floor.

* * *

Arthur kissed the stranger on the forehead. "Bye." Fully dressed, he let himself out, and walked back to the hotel.

The sex had been good, but he'd also been touched. Touched in a way that had made him feel alive. Smiling, he practically skipped back to the hotel.

As he let himself into their room, his cell began to ring. Pulling it out, he noticed that it was a number he didn't recognise. He flipped it open. "Hello?"

"Mr Arthur Richards?"

"Yes?"

"My name is David Elliott, I'm a consultant at the Waterford General."

Arthur's heart began to pound. "Yes, and?"

"I'm sorry to tell you this, but are you the partner of Michael Eames?"

"Yes."

"Then I regret to inform you that he's dead. Of an overdose. He went into cardiac arrest as a result of the drugs he's been taking, and revival attempts failed."

Arthur's phone slid out of his hand, and hit the floor. Cobb came out of the bathroom, wrapped in his robe.

"Art?"

Arthur's face was bone white. "Its Eames."

"What about him?"

He's dead."


	50. Chapter 50

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Cobb looked at Arthur, his face turning pale. "Did you just say-" he stopped and swallowed. "Did you just say that Eames is-"

"Yes." Arthur spoke brokenly. He looked at the Extractor with blind eyes. "He's dead, Dom. Dead."

"But what, how-"

"An overdose." Arthur moved to the edge of the bed and sat down. He blinked. "They tried to revive him – he went into cardiac arrest. " His voice was barely audible. "I can't bear to think of this, Dom. Of him dying. Alone. And I was-" his chin quivered and a tear rolled down his cheek.

"Arthur." Cobb pulled a chair up, and sat opposite him. "Its not your fault."

Arthur's expression was glazed. "Huh?"

"Eames was…"Cobb began, then realised he couldn't finish the sentence. "Its not your fault, Art."

"But I wasn't there." Arthur pulled a tissue out of his pocket, and wiped his face. "I was – I was-"

"Where were you?" Cobb's voice was gentle.

"I was with another man." Arthur lowered his eyes, not wanting to look at Cobb. "Whilst my boyfriend was in hospital, being treated for an overdose, I was having sex with a stranger." His tears turned into heaving, convulsive sobs, and Cobb moved to sit next to him. He put an arm around the Point Man.

"Don't feel guilty. You weren't to know."

"I hurt him." Arthur's voice was barely discernable in between his tears. "I told him I wasn't coming back. He must have felt so- felt so-"

Arthur's tears took over. He buried his face in his hands and cried. Cobb was motionless, remembering with growing alarm the phone conversation he'd had the previous night.

"If I'd known that was the last time I'd speak to him-" Arthur stuttered out the words. "If I'd known that was the last time he'd try and call-"

"Arthur." Cobb's voice was very quiet. "Arthur, there is something you need to know."

"What?" Arthur blew his nose, and threw the tissue at the wastebasket.

"Eames called me last night." Cobb was hating himself more with every word he spoke. "He wanted to-" Cobb paused, as Arthur turned to look at him. The Point Man's face was flushed and swollen with tears, but his eyes were narrowing.

"Yes, Dom?" His voice was soft. Cobb took a deep breath.

"He wanted to talk to you. I told you you weren't here."

"I wasn't." Arthur's face was beginning to harden. "I was at the club. What time was this?"

"Midnight."

Arthur's face paled. "That was when I was at Dieter's." His jaw dropped. "I was with another man while Eames was calling you? But he never called me!" His voice started to rise.

Cobb swallowed. "Arthur. I told him I hated him. I also told him that you hated him."

"You told him what?" Arthur's voice was beginning to become louder and more forceful. "You told him what Dom?"

"I told him you hated him." Cobb could barely form the words. "I'm sorry Arthur, I'm-"

Cobb stopped. Arthur's fist had slammed into his mouth, hard. The Extractor coughed.

"You- you bastard." Arthur's voice was cold as ice.

The Extractor's eyes widened in astonishment. The punch was nothing – but he'd never heard that word fall from the Point Man's lips and be directed at him before. Arthur was looking at him with a mixture of hate and confusion.

"Arthur." Cobb stood up, his own tone was cold. "What's happened has happened. Just remember what he did. He hit you. He abused you. He shot himself to try and trap you."

"He loved me." Arthur's voice was lethal. "He loved me. I loved him."

"No, he did not. He loved to hurt you." Cobb's fury was growing. "And you clearly loved it as well, otherwise you wouldn't have stayed! What is it, Arthur? Is it a kink of yours? Do you like the pain, the bruises, the self-hate? You must do!"

Arthur threw another punch, aiming for the Extractor's eye. Cobb dodged, and his fist slammed into the wall. The shock hurt him, and he cried out.

"Is that how you're going to solve all your problems from now on?" Cobb's voice was hard. "Throw punches at them? Is that something you learned from Eames?"

"Shut up." Arthur turned to the Extractor and tried to rain blows on his chest. "Just shut up!"

"Eames is gone, Arthur." Cobb turned to the Point Man. "I'm not sorry. Hate me for it if you like. But I'm just relieved its _him_ they're going to be burying, and not you!"

"What do you mean, _they_?" Arthur's contempt was like a lash. "He doesn't have anyone. His mother died of cancer when he was 16; his father disappeared when he was toddler. He doesn't have family. All he had was me. And you told him I didn't want him. You're responsible for this! Why didn't you just go and shoot him!"

Cobb turned and looked at Arthur. He gave him a cold, appraising stare.

"You know what, Arthur, I'm beginning to wish I had. And if I'd known he would do this to you, maybe I should have killed you as well."

The Extractor opened the door and walked out, leaving the Point Man to collapse on the bed. As he walked down the hallway, Cobb heard the heart wrenching sobs. Straightening his shoulders, he forced himself to keep walking. Something was niggling at the Extractor. Trying to keep calm, he opened the main door of the Hotel lobby, and walked into the street.

* * *

"You're good at that."

Eames smiled lazily as the younger man ran his finger up and down his thigh. "Why, thank you." He reached for a cigarette, and lit it. "I've had some practice, trust me."

The prostitute grinned. "I'll say. I'd better be going."

"Of course." Eames looked at his watch. "Should be about 9am in Berlin. Wonder if Arthur's thrown himself off the hotel roof yet?"

The prostitute looked at Eames, uneasily. "Listen, man, if anything happens to him because of that call you asked me to do, pretending to be your doctor, I don't want any trouble, ok?"

"No, there will be no trouble." Eames exhaled a lungful of smoke. "He was asking for this. Trust me."

He chuckled, inhaling on the cigarette again. The prostitute finished dressing and collected his $500, glancing uneasily at the Forger as he left the room.


	51. Chapter 51

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Arthur poured himself another shot of vodka. The sharp liquid seared a path to his stomach. Choking, he ran into the bathroom, and threw up bile.

He rinsed his mouth, and staggered back into the bedroom. The room was a mess, littered with clothes, tangled bedsheets, and barely consumed food and drink. In the three days since he'd learned of Eames' death, time had lost all meaning.

Arthur blinked back tears. He'd actually snatched a couple of hours of sleep the previous night. He'd dreamt of Eames, dreamt of the two of them rolling around together on the bedroom floor, kissing and groping like teenagers. Eames had unzipped the Point Man's fly, and put his mouth to his crotch. Just as Arthur came, his eyes had flown open, and the tears had begun.

He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the slight stench of decaying food. He'd placed order with room service, taken a bite, and then left it. He checked his reflection in the mirror. His cheeks were sunken and his ribs were starting to become more prominent.

He shrugged. He didn't care if he looked like a skeleton. The only person who had cared about his appearance was gone. He leaned back on the bed, trying not to notice the salty, slightly sour smell emanating from his skin. He hadn't washed in nearly four days.

A tapping had started at the door. Arthur pulled the sheets up, and ignored it.

It continued. More loudly. Cursing, Arthur pulled his robe around him, and padded to it. Opening it, he saw Cobb, and his face hardened into hatred.

"Yes?" Cobb swallowed.

"Arthur. Get a shower, and get dressed. Its been three days."

"Its called shock, Dom." Arthur looked at him, taunting. "I seem to remember after Mal threw herself out of a window, you didn't exactly feel like interacting with the human race."

Cobb winced. "I guess I asked for that."

"You did."

He walked back into the room, and tried to shut the door on Cobb; the Extractor jammed his foot in.

"Cobb. Just go."

"No chance." Cobb followed him into the room. He briefly noted the dried out food, and cups of cold liquid. The half empty vodka bottle was next to the bed. He tactfully chose to ignore it.

"When did you last eat, Arthur?"

Arthur shrugged. "You care?"

"Yes. Yes I do." Cobb walked towards him. "I have found you on the floor, covered in your own blood, due to Eames. I have seen you convinced you are going to jail, because of Eames. I have seen you crying on Miles shoulder, and on mine. I have seen you reduced to a wreck, because of Eames. Now he's gone, and you're destroying yourself over him again. And if you continue, he will have won."

Arthur picked up the vodka bottle and threw it at the Extractor. Cobb dodged, and the bottle smashed against the wall, causing the clear liquid to drip and form a puddle. Cobb looked at Arthur.

"Go to hell," the Point Man said and turned his back. "I need to get back. I have a funeral to plan, a house to clear and sell, and a new life to build. Oh, and a former best friend who drove my boyfriend over the edge."

"Do you really believe I'm to blame, Arthur?"

"Yes." Arthur glared at Cobb. "You had no right to tell him I hated him. No right!"

"Oh, and you didn't even slightly?" Astonishment was growing on Cobb's face. "After what he did-"

"And what about what I did?" Arthur's face was expressionless. "I had an affair with a prostitute. What a wonderful way to show you love your partner."

"And Eames slept with a woman in Mombasa. Didn't that strike you as the bigger betrayal?"

Arthur winced. "Thanks for reminding me. Thanks for reminding me how pathetic, how ugly, and how repellent I am, that he slept with a woman. Thank you, Dom."

He pulled his flight bag down from the top of the wardrobe.

"Don't go home." Cobb's voice held a warning.

"Why not?"

"Because doesn't it seem strange to you that they called you here, on your cellphone?"

"I'm next of kin."

"And that information is in Eames' wallet?"

Arthur looked puzzled. "What?"

"There's something that doesn't add up."

"I don't have time for this." Arthur turned his back. "Just go."

"Arthur-"

"You heard."

Cobb looked at him. "It's a trap Arthur, I swear."

Arthur looked at him. "Well, it only proves how pathetic I am, doesn't it?"

* * *

Eames presented his passport at the check in desk. The attendant scanned it. "Thank you, Sir. Your flight is at departure gate 39."

"Thank you." Picking up his hand luggage, the Forger walked to the waiting lounge. As he sat down he smiled, and flipped open his phone.

"Yes," he said speaking into the cell. "I'd like to report a crime. A few weeks ago, one of my neighbours was shot. I saw who was wielding the gun, it was his partner. The address is 576 Tregallas Drive. I haven't seen the partner, but his name is Arthur Richards. He's quite dangerous, and unstable. No, I don't want to give my name, I'm fearful for what he'll do."

Eames snapped his phone shut. Smiling, he picked up his bag and headed for the gate.


	52. Chapter 52

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

"Will you at least let me come back to the house with you?"

Cobb hated the pleading inflection in his voice, but the Point Man's expression was hard and unyielding. Throughout the flight, Arthur had kept his face either buried in the free newspapers that were handed out, or in his laptop. Cobb had tried to initiate general conversation, but his words had fallen on deaf ears.

By the time they got through immigration, Arthur's back was rigid. He'd collected his baggage in silence, and kept his face turned away from Cobb. Now they were standing at the entrance to the airport, and Cobb knew he had to try one last time.

"Why?" Arthur finally spat. "So you can stamp on his clothes? Rip up the photos I have?"

"No." Cobb was trying to keep his temper. "Its so you can have some moral support."

Arthur barked out a harsh, bitter laugh. "You should have thought of that before you sent him over the edge."

"You have no evidence he's dead."

Arthur blinked. He looked at the Extractor, his expression darkening into rage.

"Is this your idea of a sick joke?" Arthur's voice had a razor edge. "The consultant rang and spoke to me! What more evidence do you want? Shall we go to the morgue, together? Have a look? Ask if he can be sliced open to see the damage that got done?"

Cobb swallowed. "You know I don't mean that-"

"I'm not sure what you mean," Arthur said, harshly. "And guess what? I don't even care. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a house to clear and a partner to grieve. Don't call me. Don't come and see me. Look for another lackey to do your dirty work. We're through."

Arthur walked towards the cab stand, not even giving the Extractor a backward glance. Cobb watched him go, regret and anger blending in his chest. Sighing, he grabbed his bag and walked towards the cabs, hanging back until he saw Arthur being driven off.

* * *

The Point Man swallowed as the cab rounded the corner and the house came into view. The lawn looked slightly unkempt, and a bag of garbage was waiting by the kerb. After paying the driver, Arthur squared his shoulders and walked towards the door. As he unlocked, his chin started to quiver. When he got inside, he let the tears begin to fall.

Dropping his bag into the hall, he walked numbly into the living room. There was not the slightest trace of any disturbance – it was as tidy as it had been before he'd left for California. Puzzled, he went into the kitchen.

Coffee cups were sitting on the sink. Two.

Arthur swallowed, trying to suppress the anxiety that was rising in his chest. Two coffee cups. Eames had been here. He went back into the living room, and found cigarette butts in the ashtray. Looking closer, he gasped when he realised they were not all Eames' brand.

He had been there. With someone else.

A cold feeling was gripping Arthur's stomach. He walked to the stairs, to the bedroom. As he opened the door, he felt his bladder start to relax.

The bedsheets were disordered and tangled. A bottle of champagne – empty – was on the floor. Two glasses stood on the bedside table, with the dregs of the bottle still in them. Something filmy looking caught Arthur's eye. As he moved closer, he saw to his disgust and shock that it was a condom. A used one. With lubricant still on it.

Arthur couldn't bear it. He went to the bathroom, realising that he was already too late, and urine was starting to soak through his boxers. Relieving himself as best he could, rinsed his face and choked.

Straightening up, he ran a hand through his hair, then heard the doorbell ring. He sighed. Cobb.

Arthur went down the stairs, his eyes narrowing as he tried to make out the figure behind the frosted glass pane. As he opened it, he found himself face to face with a tall man. Holding a badge.

"Are you Arthur Richards?"

"Yes." Arthur's expression was one of puzzlement.

"Mr Richards, my name is Detective Leeds. I questioned your partner, Michael Eames, about the shooting at this property a few weeks ago. Mr Eames told us you had left the property with no forwarding address. We received a tip off last night from a witness who claims that they saw you shoot him. We also received a tip off this morning that you would very likely be returning to the property today. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to come with me."

Arthur's jaw sagged. His voice was barely audible.

"Are you- arresting me?"

Leeds looked at the Point Man. His expression was wavering between sympathy and blankness.

"We just want you to come with us to help us with our enquiries. You are of course entitled to have a lawyer present."

Arthur stood still, in shock. He didn't even notice when the detective took his arm to guide him to the waiting car.

* * *

Cobb stepped out of the shower, wincing at the soap that had run into his eyes. Blindly, he reached for a towel. Rubbing his face, he reached for his bathrobe.

He shrugged into it, then headed for the kitchen. Opening the fridge door, he pulled out a cold beer. Opening it, he took a swallow, and sat down.

His cell phone began to ring. No caller id. Sighing with irritation, he opened it, hoping it was neither Arthur, Miles, nor Ariadne. "Dominic Cobb."

"Oh, hello," a British voice crooned down the line. "Remember me?"

Cobb sat bolt upright. "Eames?"

"Yes, Dom?"

Cobb swallowed. "You sound pretty good for a corpse."

"I feel pretty good for a corpse. I'm currently lying in the sun, and I'm about to go and find a young lovely for a knee trembler this afternoon. How's Arthur?"

Cobb nearly choked. "He thinks you're dead."

"He does? Excellent. He's gone back to the house, yes?"

"Yes, he has." Cobb hated himself for talking to Eames, but knew he had to keep him on the line. "Why?"

Eames laughed, a smug sound. "Its just he might have some company about now."

"What?"

"Don't you remember? I got shot. Arthur disappeared. I told the police I didn't know where he was…I think they do know now."

Cobb stood up, adrenaline coursing through him like an express train. "You got someone to ring Arthur – to make him come back – and then you tipped off the police."

"Correct."

"Where are you, you piece of shit?" Cobb could barely spit out the words.

"None of your business. But I think you know where Arthur is right now. And unless you want him to be brutalised in the showers every night for the next twenty years, I suggest you go and help him." Eames hung up, and Cobb stared blankly at the phone.

It rang again. "Yes?" Cobb practically shouted into the receiver.

"Dom? Dom?" It was Arthur's voice.

"Arthur? Where are you?"

"I'm at the police station. They've brought me in for questioning. They think-" Arthur sounded as though he were choking. "They think I shot Eames, and disappeared to hide it!"

Cobb took a deep breath. "Arthur. I'll be there in ten. Hang on."


	53. Chapter 53

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Arthur rolled his loaded dice totem between his fingers. It was reality. No waking up.

The room was cold. Sitting at the desk, his hands straight out in front of him, he looked at the Perspex window. A young cop was standing behind it, his arms folded. He didn't even acknowledge Arthur.

The Point Man swallowed. He shivered, and pulled his suit jacket tighter around him. The door opened, and Leeds walked in, accompanied by a female officer. Pulling out chairs, the two of them sat down.

Arthur looked at them. Leeds had a kind face; his female companion was inscrutable.

"Mr. Richards. I'm going to ask you some questions." Leeds cleared his throat. "Please bear in mind that what you say could be given in evidence."

Arthur blanched. "Is this an interrogation?"

"Mr. Richards." Leeds held up a placating hand. "We only want to find out the truth."

Arthur leaned back. "OK."

"Where have you been for the last few days?"

"Berlin."

"Alone?"

"No."

"Who were you with?"

"Dominic Cobb."

"Who is Dominic Cobb?"

Arthur composed himself before answering. "He is my employer. We run a private investigation business."

The Detective nodded. "I see."

The female officer then spoke. "Where were you before Berlin, Mr Richards?"

Arthur took a deep breath. "California."

"With who? Mr Eames claims you went to stay with relatives."

Arthur's hands started to shake. "I went to stay with Miles Simmons. He's Dom Cobb's father-in-law."

"But you're not a relative, Mr Richards?"

"I'm godfather to his grandchildren. As far as Dom and Miles are concerned, I'm family."

"Why did you go to California, Mr Richards?"

Arthur tried to control his breathing. "Because I'd had a shock."

"What was that, Mr Richards?"

"I saw Eames get shot."

The female officer smiled. "By who?"

* * *

"Hello?"

"Miles? Its Dom."

"Hello son, how are you?"

"I'm-" Cobb paused. "Arthur's in trouble."

"What? What now?"

"We went to Berlin. Whilst there, he got a phone call telling him Eames had died of an overdose. It was a hoax. Arthur came back, went to the house, and the police arrived to question him."

"My God." Miles' voice was a whisper. "Where are you?"

"On my way to find him."

* * *

"Mr Richards. Mr Eames told the paramedics he was shot by a house intruder who entered with a gun. He threatened you. I quote "I couldn't bear to see anyone try and hurt my beautiful partner." "

Arthur swallowed.

"He also claimed that the intruder entered through an open window. There was no trace of one."

"What are you saying?"

"Mr Richards. How would you describe your relationship with Mr Eames?"

"We've been together for nearly three years, we live together, we-"

"Do you work together?"

"Yes."

"Do you ever get a little tired of one another's company?"

"No."

"Mr Richards," Leeds leaned forward. "Have you ever suffered any kind of psychiatric or mental illness?"

"No."

"You're lying." Richards pulled a cardboard file out and flipped it open. "This is a hospital report. It states that three months earlier this year, you were hospitalised as an attempted suicide. You were discharged by Mr Dominic Cobb."

Arthur blinked.

"Why did you try and commit suicide, Mr Richards?"

"It was a bad time. I felt quite hopeless, quite despairing-"

"Over what, Mr Richards?"

"Work was difficult, Eames and I were argu-" Arthur stopped short. Leeds leaned back.

"Do you argue a lot?"

"Don't all couples?"

"I'm asking about you and Mr Eames."

Arthur nodded. "Yes, we argue."

"Do you know how to handle firearms, Mr Richards?"

"Yes."

"Mr Richards. Have you ever shot anybody with intent?"

* * *

Cobb drove. He broke the speed limit, He didn't care.

* * *

Arthur shifted in his seat. The female officer smiled, and leaned forward. She spoke.

"Have you ever used violence towards Mr Eames, Mr Richards?"

Arthur looked at her in disbelief. "No."

"Have you ever wanted to hurt him?"

"No!"

"Would you ever felt compelled to do so?"

"No!"

"Then why did you leave town after he was shot?"

"I was in shock – I'd just seen my boyfriend get shot in the leg?"

"But you didn't even stick around to say goodbye, did you? You just left!"

"I wasn't thinking straight – I was-" Arthur swallowed. "Look, our relationship wasn't perfect. He cheated on me, a couple of times." The minute the words left his mouth, he wished he could take them back.

"So that's a justification is it?"

"What?" Arthur stared at her with growing horror. "Justification for what?"

"Shooting him. It was your revenge, wasn't it? You tried to commit suicide, but you didn't succeed, you never would succeed. You did it to shake him up. You go back to him, but then you leave, just to upset him further. You then go back. There's an argument. You have a gun. You know how to use it and you fully intended to!"

"No, you've got it all wrong!" Arthur's control was beginning to crack. "He had the gun-"

"He goes to hospital, and you skip town. He covers for you."

"Look, Eames is DEAD!" Arthur banged the table with his fist. "What good is this doing? He took an overdose, I know I hurt him, please!" His voice was breaking and tears were rolling down his cheeks. 2I've just suffered a loss!"

Leeds cleared his throat. "Mr Richards, he isn't."

"What?"

"Mr Eames isn't dead. He's the one who tipped us off about your return. He said he was fearful for his life, hence why he'd covered for you before. He said you were unstable, prone to fits of violence. He said that after you left, he was scared. He said you were prone to fantasies and spinning elaborate lies to support them."

Arthur opened his mouth. No sound came out. Leeds stood up, and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

"Arthur Richards. I'm arresting you for first degree assault. If I get my way, it'll be attempted murder."


	54. Chapter 54

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

The desk sergeant looked up as the two men approached. "May I help you?"

"Yes," Cobb spoke crisply. "We're here to collect Arthur Richards. I've paid bail, he's being released into the care of myself and my father-in-law, Miles Simmons."

The man nodded and pulled out a cardboard file, offering two documents. "Sign here please."

Cobb did so, and the sergeant disappeared through a side door. Cobb tapped his foot, impatiently.

Arthur was curled up in a corner of the cell. His shirt was stained with dirt, and his suit jacket was ripped. He hadn't been able to shower or shave for nearly three days, and his mouth felt sticky and coated.

He ran a hand through his hair. His mind was a blank. Suddenly, his attention was caught by the sound of the key grating in the lock, and the sergeant stood there, trim in his navy uniform.

"Richards!" he barked. "You're out. For now!"

Numbly, Arthur got up and walked towards the door. He allowed himself to be led to the holding desk.

A younger male officer pulled the plastic bag of his belongings out of the safe.

"OK, we've got a black flip mobile phone…wallet with credit cards and cash…a silver neckchain…a wrist watch…and a loaded dice."

Arthur winced. His totem was now useless. "Thank you."

"Sign here."

Arthur did, and collected his possessions. As he was led round the corner, he spotted the faces of Cobb and Miles. His knees suddenly felt weak.

"Arthur!" Cobb rushed forward and grabbed the Point Man, whose knees were buckling. "Arthur, its ok!" Miles walked forward, his face full of almost fatherly concern.

"Right. Lets get you out of here." His tone was kindly. "Dom, you support him. I don't think he's got any strength left."

* * *

"Oh, you're…you're so wicked!"

"Indeed I am, my pet. And do you want me to show you how wicked I can be?"

A throaty giggle was the response. Eames ran his hand up the young man's thigh, feeling the smooth, toned muscles beneath the skin.

"Show me!"

Eames bent down and began running his tongue along the inside, slowly working his way up to the man's erection. As he got there, he paused.

"I haven't said what I want to call you."

The man giggled. "What do you want to call me?"

"For the whole of this time we're together, you'll respond only to 'Arthur.'"

The prostitute nodded. "Of course, sir!"

* * *

The journey home was silent. Arthur looked out the window. Cobb and Miles avoided looking at each other. As they pulled into the parking lot of Cobb's apartment, Arthur felt a sigh escape him.

"I thought you'd – you'd-"

"No," Cobb said simply. "Not there."

Arthur allowed himself to be led into the apartment. As he walked in, he noticed that there were two cases standing in the hallway.

"I went over-" Cobb paused. He cleared his throat and began again. "I went over and packed up some of your clothes. Thought you wouldn't mind."

"I don't mind at all."

"Right." Miles spoke briskly. "Arthur, I hate to sound like a parent, but you're going in the shower. Dom, you're coming into the kitchen with me."

Arthur snapped to attention. "OK."

"Good. See you in ten minutes."

* * *

Eames looked at the sleeping man beside him. A little bit of sedative in alcohol always worked. He smiled to himself, remembering how easily he'd drugged Arthur.

Arthur had come home, and been tired and irritable. He'd rejected Eames suggestion of going out, and instead had slumped on the sofa. Eames had poured him a scotch, and sprinkled in a little sedative.

Within ten minutes, the Point Man had been stretched out, sleeping soundly. Eames had lifted him over his shoulder, and carried him upstairs. Once he was on the bed, he'd carefully undressed him, and then begun licking down the length of his body. Arthur had been completely inert, unconscious. He hadn't even noticed when Eames had rolled him over.

"Its not rape if you don't say no, Artie." He'd whispered. "Its not rape if you don't know."

He'd kissed Arthur afterwards, and tucked him in. The next morning, Arthur had woken up, and moaned softly when the bright light hit his eyes.

"Are you ok, pet?"

"I just feel-" Arthur looked at Eames. "Hung over. How much did I drink last night?"

"Couple of scotches."

"Oh." Arthur blinked. He sat up, and winced.

"Are you allright, darling?"

"Eames did we-?"

"No. We haven't done it for weeks."

Arthur looked at him. "Now, that's not true."

"Yes it is. You just lie there. Always too tired." Eames stood up, and headed for the shower. The Point Man had been left, wincing at the pain in his lower body.

Eames relaxed on the balcony. He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket, and rang it.

* * *

Arthur stepped out of the shower. The hot water had felt good on his skin, he felt cleansed. He reached for a soft grey bathrobe hanging behind the door, and tied it round his waist. Opening the door, he walked towards the kitchen.

Cobb looked up. "Hey."

"Hey."

Cobb sucked his teeth in. The Point Man looked gaunt, haggard. He shuffled towards a stool, and sat down.

No-one spoke. Miles was focused on buttering toast.

Cobb cleared his throat. "Arthur."

"Yes?"

"What happened?"

Arthur closed his eyes, remembering what had happened after he'd been charged. He'd been kept in a holding cell for nearly twelve hours, before being ushered back into an interview room.

A different set of detectives were waiting for him. One was tall, thin, with sharp features; the other slightly hard faced. Both male.

"Mr Richards, You have been charged with first degree assault. Do you know what that is?"

"Yes."

"Why did you shoot Mr Eames?"

"I didn't."

"Then why did you disappear?"

"I-I-"

"You don't know?"

"No, I didn't shoot him."

"Mr Richards, is it true you were hospitalised for attempting to take your own life?"

"Yes."

"Arthur!" Cobb was speaking, loudly. "Arthur, please, stop thinking about it. You're here, for now."

"Yes, for now." Arthur looked at Cobb. "I could get ten years."

Cobb opened his mouth to speak, when suddenly a loud buzzing noise erupted in the room.

Arthur started. "Oh, its my cell." It was flashing through the plastic bag. He reached for it.

"Arthur, don't-"

The Point Man flipped it open, frowning as he saw no caller id. "Hello?"

"Arthur. Darling. You really, really scared me."

Arthur's face froze. "Eames?"

"Who else? You really are the cruellest man I've ever met. Why did you abandon me in hospital? Why did you go?"

"Eames, I've been arrested, and charged with-"

"Oh, have you?" The voice was lazy, taunting. "Serves you right." He clicked off.

Cobb and Miles stood, both aghast. Arthur slid off the stool, and collapsed on the floor.


	55. Chapter 55

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

He kissed him. Hard. On the lips.

"That feels good," Arthur whispered. "Kiss me again."

"Of course, darling." Another kiss, to the mouth.

"And again."

"You demand a lot."

"I know, but please-"

"How about this?"

The fist went straight into Arthur's mouth, he staggered, feeling the blood begin to rise.

"You enjoyed that, didn't you?" Eames murmured. He got up. "How about this?" He raised his fist.

Arthur tried to yell, and found himself sitting bolt upright in bed. A shadowy figure by wall came forward.

"Its allright son, I'm here." A cool, large hand swept gently over his forehead. "Calm down."

"The dreams, he's in them Miles, I can't-"

"I know." Miles sat on the edge of the bed, and pulled Arthur close, letting the younger man steady his breathing. "I know."

* * *

Miles walked downstairs, only to find Cobb brooding in the kitchen. He was spinning his totem, only to notice that it fell everytime.

"How is he?"

Miles shook his head. "I'm worried, Dom. Seriously worried. I really think we ought to take him to a hospital, get a proper diagnosis. He can't sleep, and when he does, he wakes up screaming. He won't eat, and he won't wash. This is post-traumatic stress, depression – but its killing him, Dom. Eames has had his revenge."

Cobb took a sip of cold coffee. "Why has Eames done this, Miles? Why has he turned Arthur into this?"

"Because he could." Miles sat down, and pulled his own cup to him. "Eames is like a child pulling the wings of a butterfly. He's taken someone he would never fully understand, and destroyed him."

"I didn't do enough." The Extractor's tone was bitter.

"Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't." Cobb shuddered, remembering how he had faced Arthur after the phone call.

The Police sergeant had been stone faced, unyielding. He'd looked at Cobb with near insolence. "Yes?"

"I'd like to see Arthur Richards."

"You a relative?"

"I'm a friend."

"This way." He pressed a buzzer, and after a few minutes, Cobb found himself in a dark interview room. Arthur was sitting at the table, his hair mussed and his expression haunted. Cobb swallowed.

"Arthur?"

The Point Man looked up.

"Dom?" His expression was turning into one of relief. "Thank God you're here – I'm so sorry so sorry-"

Cobb sat down. "Save it." The words came out harshly, and he flinched at his own tone. "What happened?"

"I got back to the house, and-" Arthur paused. "I found things that showed Eames had been there. Then, I went downstairs, and the detectives were there."

"What happened?"

"They wanted to question me. They said it looked suspicious that I'd gone after Eames got shot. They questioned me. Told me they knew about my suicide attempt, told me that-" he swallowed.

"What else?"

"That he isn't dead."

"What?"

"He isn't dead. He faked his own death. He was the one who tipped them off. Told them I was unstable and prone to dangerous behaviour." Arthur leaned forward. "Dom, I'm being charged with first degree assault. If I'm found guilty, I could get ten years."

Cobb swallowed. "Arthur, I-"

"You were right." The Point Man's tone was bitter. "You were right, Dom. All along. I should have listened to you, I never should have left Berlin on that first job we went out there for."

"Would you have listened?" Cobb's voice was in danger of rising. "You always defended him, Arthur! Always! And just for the record, I lied for you as well! I'm implicated! I gave you that damn gun!"

Arthur blinked. "So, what happens?"

Cobb shrugged. "I guess we're both going to have to disappear. Somewhere where we can lie low."

"No." Arthur shook his head. "I have family, in Conneticut."

"Yes, and I have children. Please don't parade your conscience in front of me, Arthur." Cobb's tone was cold. "You refused every get out clause I offered."

The Point Man winced. "Point taken."

"This isn't helping." Cobb stood up. "I will arrange bail. Then this will be dealt with. And Arthur, after its all finished, if you ever go near Eames again, I will shoot you myself. Is that clear?"

Arthur nodded. "Technicolour."

* * *

"Arthur Richards, please stand."

Arthur did so. The female judge looked at him, her expression unreadable.

"This is a serious offence. It is first degree assault on a man who was to all intents and purposes your spouse. However, due to your history of erratic behaviour, it would not be safe to put you in jail. I am therefore releasing you on $40,000 bail, into the care of Mr Dom Cobb and his father in law, Mr Miles Simmons."

Arthur blinked. "Thank you, your Honour."

"There is one condition." Her voice was stern. "That you do not, under any circumstances, even attempt to leave this city. If you do, you will be inside until your trial."

* * *

The doctor came downstairs, and spoke to them both.

"He's not in good shape." She looked at both men. "He needs to relax, needs to sleep. I've left some sedatives. I would prescribe anti-depressants, but I don't think that's what he needs."

"Thank you, doctor," Miles spoke courteously, and showed her out.

* * *

Cobb sat on the porch, and stared out at the garden. The hazy sunshine seemed unjust to him, whilst Arthur was so wretched. His cell bleeped, and he fished for it.

"Hello?"

"Hello, _Dom._ How is poor Arthur?"

"Eames?" Cobb sat upright, his adrenaline beginning to course. "Do you even care?"

"Of course I do. You wound me."

"I'll tell you how he is." Cobb tightened his grip. "After you called, he collapsed, and he's been in bed for the last three days. He wakes up screaming in the night. You really did a job on him Eames – well done."

"Oh, did I?"

"Yes."

"I wouldn't go there if I were you. He stayed with me. He had plenty of opportunities to leave. He came back to me after Berlin. Then he went to you – and came back. Then he ran. And Dom, why did he bring that gun with him?"

Cobb blinked.

"Because he wanted to protect himself."

"No, it was because he wanted to kill me. He's dangerous, Cobb. Unstable. Do you really want him in your life? Think of your children."

Cobb stood up. Rage was coursing through him.

"There's nothing wrong with Arthur that a good dose of therapy won't fix, and the start is getting his name cleared." Cobb swallowed. "Come back, Eames. Come back, and own up to what you've done."

"No." The voice was hard. "I haven't done anything. Aside from make the mistake of staying with a pathetic, weak, cheating, two faced little slag like him. Do us all a favour, Dom. Give him the sedatives, and let him take the lot."

He hung up. Cobb turned and walked back into the kitchen. Miles was studying some blueprints, and looked up.

"What is it?"

"Miles, do you think you'd be ok here with Arthur?"

Miles leaned back. "Why do you ask?"

Cobb looked at him. "I'm going to Mombasa. Time to visit Eames."


	56. Chapter 56

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

The doorbell sounded. Miles looked up.

"Don't move, Arthur!" He called. "I'll get it."

Arthur made no sound. Miles, frowning, walked to the door. Opening it, he was surprised to find a young woman standing in front of him, impeccably dressed in a navy blue suit.

"Good morning," she spoke courteously. "I'm Lorraine Tresize. I'm a trauma counsellor for the Police. I'm here to speak to Mr Arthur Richards."

Miles swallowed. "Miss Tresize. I don't think this is a good time-"

"Are you Mr Miles Simmons?"

"Yes." Miles was taken aback by her abrupt manner.

"Mr Richards was released into your care, yes?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"You are failing in that if you don't allow me to speak to him."

Miles, furious, realised he had no choice. "OK, come in." He looked at her. "But take this on board – if he becomes distress or upset, I will ask you to leave."

She smiled. "Of course, Mr Simmons."

* * *

Cobb took his passport back, and made his way to baggage. The temperature was high, and the hot, dry heat made him feel dehydrated. Squinting against the bright light, he put his sunglasses back on.

Standing at the baggage carousel, he had one thought. Find Eames. What happened after that, he reflected, was down to the Forger.

* * *

Arthur sat, looking at the counsellor. He had showered and shaved, but the jeans and t-shirt were a far cry from the immaculately tailored Point Man of old.

"Mr Richards." Tresize's manner was brisk, like that of a kindergarten teacher. "I'm going to ask you a series of questions. You are at liberty to say no comment."

Arthur nodded.

"Right." She smiled. "How much do you drink in a week?"

Arthur was taken aback. "Excuse me?"

"How much do you drink in a week?"

"Umm…a couple of beers. Maybe a couple of scotches?"

She wrote it down. "Do you ever drink to excess?"

"No."

"How does alcohol affect you?"

"It makes me-" he paused. "Sleepy."

"Do you think it makes you violent?"

Arthur blinked. "No."

"What about drugs?"

Arthur blanched. "How do you mean?"

"Have you ever taken drugs?"

"Yes, once."

"Oh, yes – you were hospitalised for that weren't you?"

"Yes, I was."

"Has Mr Eames ever taken drugs?"

Arthur shivered. He was vividly reminded of a night when Eames had come home, grinning and coked up.

"You should try some, Artie."

"No." Arthur had retorted. "I'm going to bed. Good night."

He'd turned to leave, and found himself slammed back against a wall.

"Yes, you are going to bed…but not yet." Eames' grin was maniacal, and his eyes were bulging slightly. He was fiddling with his flies.

"Eames, you're coked," Arthur had said coldly. "Let go of me."

Before he could move again, Eames had grabbed the back of his head, and was pushing him down towards his groin. Eames' cock, hard and glistening, was waiting.

"Suck it, Arthur, you little bitch," Eames spat. "A good long suck. Put that mouth of yours to a better use for once!"

Arthur felt Eames' cock hitting him in the back of his throat. He gagged.

"Come on, haven't you heard of deep throat?" Eames jeered. "Do you good! Something nutritious in your system for once!"

Gagging, Arthur tried to push Eames back – only to realise he was pressed up against the wall. His eyes started to stream.

"Suck, for fuck's sake!" The Forger was holding the back of his head with a vice like grip. "Do as you're told!"

Arthur put his hands onto Eames' thighs, and pushed. Eames started to pull out of his mouth, and Arthur fell against the wall, coughing and choking.

"You little-" Eames growled, not bothering to zip up his flies. "You are going to pay for that, you little shit!"

The bruising on Arthur's torso had taken nearly a week to fade. They had been shades of chartreuse and plum. Eames had been astounded when he'd seen them.

"Oh, God…" he'd breathed. "Did I do that?"

Arthur nodded.

"Oh, Arthur-" the tears were glinting in Eames' eyes. "It was the cocaine, I'm so sorry. I know it turns me into an animal, but its just I came in, and your mouth – and I just wants to feel your mouth on me-"

Arthur's lip had quivered as Eames had kissed the bruising. After that, they'd never spoken of it again.

"Mr Richards?" Tresize was persistent. "Has Mr Eames ever taken drugs?"

Arthur swallowed. "Not that I know of."

Tresize smiled. "Mr Richards. Has Mr Eames ever been violent towards you?"

Arthur paused before opening his mouth.

* * *

Cobb arrived at the hotel, and smiled at the receptionist. "Hi. A reservation for Dom Cobb?"

"Of course, Sir. One moment." She tapped into a computer screen. "Yes, its right here."

"Thank you." He handed over his credit card. "Oh, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"I'm looking for this man." He produced a photo of Eames. "Have you seen him?"

"Mr Eames? Of course. He's so charming!"

Cobb's heart started to pound. "When did you last see him?"

She smiled. "He checked out this morning."


	57. Chapter 57

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Eames snorted the trail of powder off the mirror, stood up, and rubbed the residue into his top gum. Licking his tongue over it, he smiled and walked out of the bathroom into the hotel room.

The young man was lying, lazily, insolently, in the unmade bed.

"Right." Eames' dark eyes flashed. "There are some lines on the mirror in the bathroom. Go and snort it."

The young man nodded dumbly, then got up and walked into the adjoining room. Eames took a swig of the scotch on the bedstand. He heard the prostitute cough.

"Ready?" He called out.

The young man walked out, his eyes streaming. Eames sniffed.

"Can't handle your coke?"

The prostitute looked at him. "What now?"

"This." Moving over to him, Eames slammed his fist into the prostitute's jaw, leaving him reeling. He fell over the stained, cracked bathtub. Eames moved in behind him, grabbing his calves and pulling him over the side.

"Its time," he whispered, and unzipped his flies. "Hope you're tight. I love it when they bleed."

The prostitute tried to struggle. Eames landed a stinging blow to his side.

"Don't even try it." He started to laugh. "Remember, I'm paying!"

* * *

"Did you ever feel threatened by Mr Eames?"

Arthur blinked. "How do you mean?"

Tresize smiled. "I mean, did he ever make demands on you that you didn't like?"

Arthur shrugged. "Don't all couples?"

Her smile started to freeze. "What about sex?"

Arthur blanched. "What about it?"

"Did you and Mr Eames have a healthy sex life?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business." The Point Man spoke with a slight edge to his voice.

"Mr Richards." The counsellor gazed at him, fixedly. "Mr Eames was shot in the calf, by an alleged intruder. You then disappear. You come back, and he claims he was fearful for his life. He has disappeared. Don't you see how something strange is going on?"

"Yes, Eames and I had sex!" Arthur burst out. "He used to fuck me rigid! Over the bed, over the desk, sometimes we'd slam it in to each other at work when we thought no-one was looking! Sometimes he'd hire prostitutes to spice things up, and one time, he tied me up and gagged me! Is that what you want to know, what you want to know?"

Arthur got up and ran out of the room. Miles stood up, his face expressionless.

"Miss Tresize." He spoke calmly. "I really think it time you left."

She nodded. "Very well." She got up, smoothing out a wrinkle in her skirt. "But please be aware, I will be back, and if necessary, with a psychiatrist."

Miles nodded. "Yes, you do that. This way please."

* * *

Cobb stood on the balcony, wishing he'd thought everything through. He'd been so sure he'd find Eames, it never occurred to him he may not.

Cursing, he took a swallow of beer. Mombasa was huge. Finding the Forger was going to be virtually impossible – he would make absolutely sure he wasn't found.

Cobb ran through the list of possible hideouts for Eames. Poker halls? Strip joints? He took another swig, and then an idea started to form. Putting the beer down, he started to move towards the room, reaching in his pocket for his cellphone.

Eames lay on the bed, smoking, looking at the prone figure beside him. After he'd taken the prostitute, roughly, he'd dragged him into the bedroom. Whimpering, the man had allowed his hands had to be tied, whilst Eames rammed him into the mattress.

He flicked ash off the cigarette and smiled. It reminded him of when he'd tried it with Arthur. The Point Man had been aloof, slightly cold, and Eames had begun to feel rejected. When Arthur had come home after another late night at work, Eames had been waiting, with rope, and a gag, in the darkened lounge.

"Eames?" Arthur had called out.

"In here, gorgeous," Eames had replied. Arthur had wandered in, then made a gasp of surprise as Eames had grabbed him from the back. Swiftly tying his hands, he'd walked him upstairs to the bedroom. Arthur's suit had soon been lying on the floor, buttons ripped off his shirt, and a gag in his mouth. His eyes had widened when Eames had tied it round his face.

"Don't struggle," the Forger had whispered. "You'll make it worse. Get on your front."

Arthur had complied, but he'd been rigid. Eames had dropped his trousers and boxers, running his hands over the Point Man's body. He'd run his tongue down his back, stimulating him. Then just as Arthur had finally started to relax, Eames had entered him. The Point Man had moaned, whether in pleasure or pain, Eames had not cared.

The next day, Arthur hadn't spoken to him. Just looked at him reproachfully with those huge dark eyes. Eames had shrugged.

"You need to trust me a bit more," he'd hissed at him. "You know that its always safe!"

Arthur had looked at him. "But you don't give me the choice!"

Eames stared back, his expression hard. "You never give me one. You never let me know if you want sex, want anything – all you do is lie there. You're cold, Arthur. Cold, and frigid. If I have to rough you up to get a reaction, I'll just start doing it more."

Eames had heard Arthur sobbing later that night. He'd ignored it.

He lit another cigarette. Reaching for his cellphone, he smiled to himself.

* * *

Cobb walked into one of the seedier neighbourhoods. He'd requested where he could find he brothels, ignoring the sly glances. He was going to go into every single one and ask if he could find Eames.

He stepped in. A young woman was at the entrance. "May I help you?"

"I hope so," the Extractor replied. "I'm looking for this man." He proferred the photograph.

Her eyes widened. "Oh. Him."

"Start talking." Cobb looked at her.

"He beat people up." She turned her back to Cobb, leaving him both irritated and elated. Finally, a lead.

"What do you mean?" Cobb's voice was calm.

"He pays for sex, and also makes them do things…" her voice trailed off. A young man was coming into the doorway, gasping. His face was slightly bloody.

"Are you allright?" Cobb's voice was full of concern.

"He…made me take…cocaine." Before Cobb or the girl could move, the man had passed out. Cobb stood up. Eames. It had to be.


	58. Chapter 58

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

"Arthur." Miles tapped on the door, his voice calm and reasonable. "Arthur, please let me in."

"Just leave me alone!" The voice was choked with sobs. "Just back off!"

"You've been on your own long enough." Miles' voice was firm. "I'm not going anywhere, son."

The door opened a crack. Arthur stood there, dishevelled and tear stained.

"Arthur." Miles stepped forward. "Stop crying. Please."

"Why?"

"Is this really you?" Miles looked at him, penetratingly. "Crying, hiding in your room – I don't think so. When are you going to realise that its ok to admit that you've made a mistake? Its ok – as long as you take steps to rectify it?"

Arthur swung the door open. "Don't lecture me."

"I'm not. I'm merely-"

"Yes you fucking are." The tone was bitter. "You, Dom – all of you. I know what you think of me. You don't have to spell it out."

"What do we think of you, Arthur?"

Arthur glared at him.

"That I deserve this. That I'm a boring, humourless, stick in the mud. That I'm lucky to have anyone love me, and therefore, Eames is what I deserve."

"Arthur." Miles looked at him. "You know that's not true. You know that's not what I think, or Dom. You know that we think you're loyal, determined, strong. Which is why its such a shock to see you like this."

Arthur fell silent.

"How often do you cry, Arthur? Is it in private, or at night, into the pillow?"

"I cry when I'm upset."

"And he upsets you all the time, doesn't he."

Arthur paced across the room. "You don't understand."

"Try me."

"Eames makes me feel…different. He makes me feel dangerous, daring. He made me feel special, that I was the most perfect guy in the world. He told me that I worked too hard, needed to look after myself. He used to do things for me – offer to wash my back in the shower, make me breakfast. Told me I was too thin, I needed to eat. Needed to be shown somebody cared." He smiled, remembering how sweet Eames was at the beginning.

"And then it changed. When?"

"After two years." Arthur's voice was toneless. "I thought things would improve. Everything I did irritated him, got on his nerves. He told me that I'd changed, and wanted to change him, tame him. Then we started arguing."

"And then?"

"He told me that he loved me, but it was difficult. That I was hard work. That being with me put a strain on him, but I was a good trophy boyfriend." Arthur swallowed.

"A trophy?" Miles blinked. "Arthur, you are worth so much more-"

"Am I?" Arthur's jaw was tightening. "Do you know how many people were interested in me before Eames, Miles? Zero. None. Men thought I was either cold or aloof. Eames was persistent, he made the effort."

"Did he?" Miles turned to Arthur. "There are other men out there. Who would treat you better than he does."

"Would they?" Arthur looked at Miles. "Eames told me once that I wasn't bad looking, but not great. I didn't stop his heart. He said he doubted I'd stop anyone's heart."

"Don't believe him, Arthur!" Miles voice was increasing in volume. "Don't believe him!"

"But what if its true?" Arthur turned, his face starting to contort. "What if its true, and its all of you who are lying to me? All of you telling me that Eames is in the wrong? I am boring! I am humourless! The number of times Dom has snapped at me for getting things wrong, for letting him down! The way Ariadne gazed at me, wishing I would get in her pants! They all think deserve it! I've let them all down, I deserve this!"

Arthur began to lash out in a frenzy, his fists trying to rain down blows on Miles. Miles grabbed his wrists, and pulled him close. Arthur collapsed against Miles' chest, heaving with sobs.

Miles sat down, pulling Arthur with him.

"You don't deserve this, son," he rubbed his back. "Trust me, you don't."

"But I'm going to jail," Arthur sobbed out the words. "I didn't hurt him Miles, I never would!"

"I know you wouldn't." Miles held him tight. "I know. And so does he."

"But he hurt me." Arthur stared at the floor. "He tied me up, he raped me - why did he do that?"

Miles hugged him tighter. "Because he felt he could."

* * *

Cobb looked at the man. A thin trickle of blood was running down his face. He leaned down, offering a handkerchief. "Here."

"Thanks."

"What happened to you?"

The prostitute exhaled, shakily. "I was with a client. He took coke, made me take it. Then-" he shuddered – "we had sex. He grabbed me and made me raw."

"What else?"

"He burned me." The prostitute pulled his shirt to reveal two small red weals on his skin. "With his cigarette."

Cobb felt sick. "What was his name?"

"I don't know."

"Sure you do." Cobb's tone was kind. "tell me."

"I don't know his name. He never asked for mine. He told me what he'd call me."

"And what did he want to call you?"

The prostitute met Cobb's eyes. "Arthur."


	59. Chapter 59

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Eames strolled over to the balcony, smoking. He cast a glance to the packed suitcase on the bed behind him. Leaning over, he watched the thriving, writhing street life of Mombasa.

He exhaled a lungful of smoke, and checked his watch. He needed to go. He stubbed the cigarette out on the balcony, and flicked it.

"Time to go home," he murmured reflectively.

* * *

Cobb helped the injured man into a chair, whilst the young woman brought him a glass of water. She hovered, worriedly, in the background. Cobb helped the man raise the glass to his lips.

"What happened?" Cobb's tone was kind.

"He…told me to take cocaine." The man's voice was weak, shaky. "Then…he hit me. We had sex." He winced. "He burned me with his cigarette. He called me a dirty slut…dirty whore."

"What did he look like?"

"Tall, big…English." The man took a gulp of water.

"Where was he staying?" Cobb's voice was urgent.

The man swallowed the water. "Hotel Paradiso."

* * *

The doorbell rang. Arthur felt a surge of panic. He ran down the stairs, hoping Miles would answer it. As the bell rang again, he realised that he hadn't. Going to the door, he cautiously opened it. "Yes?"

"Mr Arthur Richards?"

"Yes." He looked at her, quizzically. "What can I do for you?"

The young woman behind the door showed her badge. "Detective Hamilton. I would like you to come with me to the station." She smiled, placatingly.

Arthur swallowed. "I've answered all your questions."

She looked at him. "Mr Richards, I'm asking for you to come downtown for a session with our medical examiner."

Arthur blinked. "What?"

"Mr Richards, we would like you to undergo blood tests for possible substance abuse."

"You can't be serious."

"Mr Richards. If you continue to refuse, I will arrest you. Please bring either Mr Simmons or Mr Cobb with you."

Arthur looked at her. "OK, hang on." He shuffled back into the house. "Miles!"

The older man emerged, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. "I was in the garden. What is it?"

Arthur tried to stay composed. "I need to go downtown. They want to test me for drugs."

Miles' jaw sagged. "You're not serious."

"I am."

Miles nodded. "OK, son, hold on." He walked back into the kitchen. "I'll get my keys."

Arthur walked back to the front door and turned back to the detective. "Mr Simmons is coming." He tried to keep his voice calm. "Why are you doing this?"

"Mr Richards. You are currently on bail for suspected assault. We need to make sure that you have told us everything regarding your past history. We need to make sure there is no possible substance related reason for your behaviour. Its standard procedure."

Arthur shrugged. "OK. Do you mind if I go upstairs and get a coat? Its cold."

"Not a problem, Mr Richards. We'll wait down here."

Arthur smiled. "Thank you."

He walked upstairs. Casting a glance over his shoulder, he went to the bureau by the bed. Pulling the drawer open, he found the forged passport that Cobb had given him when they were first in Berlin. _Mr Michael Palmer_, it stated.

Next to it lay the new credit cards he'd been given. Picking both up, Arthur slid them into the pocket of a black rucksack. He opened the closet, and quickly stuffed in a few clothes. Opening the window, he leaned over, and grabbed the branch of the tree. With a lightness and balance, he swung himself down, landing with a soft thud. The tree, he calculated, was at the back of the house. Hurrying, he headed for the nearest bus stop, pulling a black beanie over his head as he went.

A bus was just pulling in at the curb. Arthur waited for the doors to open, and got on.

"Where to?"

"Downtown." He hastily counted at the change. Accepting his ticket, he moved towards a seat, lowering himself into it. Trying to control his breathing, he exhaled with relief as the bus pulled away from the curb.

* * *

Cobb hurried. He had got the directions, and was determined. Eames wasn't going to escape this one. As the Hotel Paradiso loomed in the horizon, he quickened his steps.

Entering the lobby, he moved towards the receptionist. She looked up. "May I help you?"

Cobb reached into his pocket, and pulled out his wallet. His fingers sifted through the bills, until he pulled out a $100 note.

"I will give you this, if you give me the location of one of your guests." He tried to keep his voice calm.

She looked at him. "Really?"

"Yes." Cobb tried to steady his breathing. "His name is Eames, he's English."

She nodded.

"Which room?"

She paused. Her eyes widened. Cobb looked at her, searchingly. "What is it?"

"I wouldn't bother, Dom. Fancy a drink?"


	60. Chapter 60

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

"I'm sure Arthur will be down in a minute, Officer."

She looked at Miles, her eyes narrowing. "Mr Simmons. He's been gone for over ten minutes. May I go inside and check?"

Miles nodded. "Of course. This way please."

* * *

Cobb turned round, his heart beginning to race. Eames stood directly behind him, smiling. He fished in his pocket, and pulled out his cigarettes. With an air of near insolence, he pulled one out, put it in his mouth, and flicked his lighter.

"As I said," he spoke through a mouthful of smoke. "Fancy a drink?"

Cobb looked at him, his face cold. "Give me a reason to."

Eames shrugged. "Oh, come on. You know you want to. You know you want to ask me why I'm here. You can't shoot me, its too public. So lets go and talk like grown ups, hmmm?"

The Extractor felt a surge of genuine hatred. "I can't believe I once liked you. I trusted you."

"Oh, save it." Eames exhaled, directing his mouthful of smoke to the ceiling. "Heard it all before, Dom. Lets go for that drink."

Silently, Cobb allowed himself to be led to a nearby bar. Eames placed an order for two beers, and the men collected them and found themselves seats. Cobb pushed his sunglasses up, and studied the Forger. He looked calm, healthy, and relaxed – unlike Arthur, who was nervous, physically unwell, and gave the impression of being on the verge of cracking completely.

"So where's Arthur?" Eames voice was the sound of innocence. "Put him in the crèche whilst you've come to bother me, hmmm?"

Cobb bristled. "You really think he's a child, don't you?"

"Please, Dom. That's repulsive." Eames mock shivered, and reached for his beer. "He acts like one. Do you have any idea the amount of whining, nagging, and whinging I have to put up with? Arthur's very good at making sure he's the centre of attention all the bloody time. He's a total prima donna, and aren't you sick of it?"

Cobb took a sip of beer. "Arthur can be difficult…" he said slowly. "But that doesn't justify what you did."

"What did I do?"

"Shooting yourself in the leg, and then claiming it was him. And – faking your own death."

"How else would I get him to come back? That's all your fault. If you hadn't decided to try and do the big man to the rescue act, I wouldn't have felt the need to. You took my boyfriend to Berlin, whilst I was still in the hospital. You are a very cold man, Dom, you really are."

Cobb looked at Eames in mounting amazement. "Are you suggesting that the reason Arthur's facing charges is because of me?" His jaw sagged. "You are unbelievable."

Eames shrugged. "Face it, Dom. If you hadn't decided to take him to Berlin, I wouldn't have needed to get him to come back. I knew he wouldn't return if I just rang, so I got a whore I hired to ring him instead."

Cobb was beginning to inch his hand towards his gun. "Eames. You are the sickest, most twisted man I've ever met."

Eames smiled.

"Coming from a man who drove his own wife to suicide, that's rich."

Cobb's fingers closed around the hilt of his gun. Breathing slowly, he began to pull it out.

* * *

Arthur walked towards the desk in the airport, pulling his jacket further round himself. He had so far not attracted attention, and he had no intention of doing so now. The woman sitting behind the desk looked up, and smiled at him.

"May I help you?"

Arthur cleared his throat. "Is there any chance I could get a seat on a plane to Mombasa? Today?"

"One moment."

Arthur pressed himself up against the check in desk, trying not to look in the direction of the two guards walking past. Neither turned to look in his direction. He began to breath less rapidly.

She smiled. "Believe it or not, you're in luck. We have a flight leaving today at 5.25pm. Its now –" She glanced at the clock – "3.30pm. You can still make it through security and check in."

Arthur nodded. "I'll take it. " He pulled out his fake credit card and passport, marvelling at the quality of both as they simply passed through the system.

"Do you have any luggage?"

"No, aside from this." He lifted the rucksack.

The woman smiled again. "OK, Mr Palmer, no problem. Here is your receipt, and boarding pass. Security is on the next floor. Have a safe trip."

Arthur smiled, a genuine one. "Thank you."

"My pleasure."

Lifting his rucksack, the Point Man walked towards security. A stern faced guard opened his mouth, but Arthur quickly emptied his pockets.

"OK, wallet, keys, cellular phone…" the guard pressed a button for them to pass through x-ray. "Lift your arms, please."

Arthur complied, noticing how the guards hands seemingly thumped his sides. He'd lost more weight than he realised, he thought ruefully.

The guard nodded. "All clear."

Arthur walked through into security, and checked his watch. Just over an hour before he boarded the flight.

* * *

Miles sighed. Arthur's disappearance had led to a phone call being made, and suddenly two more detectives had swooped upon the house. He now found himself being questioned.

"Where do you think he's gone?"

"I have no idea." Miles remained calm.

The Officer scratched his head. "OK. Mr Simmons, he was released into your care. Are you sure he didn't give any indications of where he might be going?"

"No." Miles said, honestly. "Arthur has been under a lot of stress-"

The Officer nodded. "OK. We hear you. We'll start looking for him, and return him to you."

Miles nodded. "Please do."

* * *

Arthur handed his boarding pass to the Attendant. She looked at it, and scanned it.

"Thank you Sir. Have a pleasant flight."

Arthur nodded, and headed for his seat.


	61. Chapter 61

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Arthur stood under the shower, allowing the tepid water to sluice his body. Closing his eyes, he let the water run through his hair. As he did so, he began to gather his thoughts.

Getting through immigration at Mombasa was easy. All he'd had to do was show his fraudulent passport, and they'd simply waved him through. He'd found a cab, and requested to be taken to a cheap hotel. The driver had obliged, and registering as Trent Palmer, he'd paid in advance with cash for five days.

He got out of the shower, waving his arm to disperse a fly. Grabbing a towel, he rubbed himself and walked into the bedroom. His thoughts were beginning to collect.

He realised he was facing stark choices. To find Eames, and persuade him to come back and tell the truth; or find Eames, and then spend the rest of his life as an international fugitive. He couldn't go back to the States, and large tracts of Europe would be off limits also. But Africa, and South America – he could potentially build a life.

He swallowed, feeling his throat constrict. The prospect of spending the rest of his life alone, rattling around a shady underworld with no security or prospects was terrifying. But the thought of going back, facing a trial and being convicted was enough to make the former seem appealing. Arthur knew he could carve out a life for himself if he needed to. But he also knew that there would be potentially no life after jail.

He reached for a clean shirt. He'd left the hotel briefly, to buy a few clothes. As he slipped on the white shirt, followed by the well cut khaki pants, he felt a sense of pride stirring. Picking up his comb, he went to the mirror.

* * *

"So what do you suggest I do, Dom?"

Cobb gritted his teeth. His hand was brushing lightly, imperceptibly, against the hilt of his gun.

"I suggest you come back with me." He was astonished at how calm his voice sounded. "Come back with me, and give yourself up. Tell the police the truth – that you shot yourself. That you framed Arthur. Do it, Eames."

"Why?"

Eames slumped back in his seat, and looked at Cobb. His face was almost mocking.

"Is that really the best you can do?"

Cobb's control snapped. Without thinking, he pulled the gun out, and pointed it at Eames' left knee. "No. This is the best I can do."

Eames looked down, and raised an eyebrow. "Well. I see you're just as cracked as dear Arthur. Really good idea, Dom. Shoot me. The law here is a bureaucratic nightmare. You'll end up inside, with no lawyer and nobody caring. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life rotting in a Kenyan prison, because of that little shit?"

Cobb looked at the Forger. "Why do you hate Arthur so much? Why do you stay with him? Why do you hurt him?"

Eames looked at Cobb, and raised an eyebrow. The pressure of the gun barrel against his knee seemed to go unnoticed. He reached for his bottle of beer, and took a swallow.

"You want to know the truth?"

"Yes." Cobb practically spat out the word.

"Because I can." Eames laid back, and took another swig of beer. "Because I can, and because he lets me. Does that answer your question?"

* * *

Arthur shrugged into the jacket – a light grey one – and reached for his sunglasses. Opening his hotel room door, he headed for the street.

He had no idea where Eames was. But he did have an idea of where he could begin to look for him. Walking into the street, he inhaled, and began to walk.

* * *

Cobb was looking at Eames, shocked. "He lets you?"

"Of course he does." Eames was almost smug. "Think about it. Arthur has money, the means to leave me. He doesn't have to depend upon you for an income. But he stays with me. Don't you think he might be enjoying it, possibly? That he likes it? That the make up sex is compensation for the punching? "

Cobb's jaw started to sag.

"I admit it, I can be hard. But he's fucking hard work. He's needy. He's whiny. He likes praise and love and reassurance…" He shrugged and took another swig of beer.

"And you take advantage of it."

"No. I just –" Eames shrugged. "Oh, for God's sake, what do you want me to say? I'm sorry? No, I won't. Because I'm not."

Cobb stood up.

"I'm leaving now," he spoke evenly. "I'll take care of Arthur. Just do me a favour – don't ever come back."

"It's a free world. And I'll need to visit him in prison. I can't wait to hear him tell me what they'll do to that tantalising arse of his in the showers!"

Cobb glared at him. "Don't ever come back. Ever."

Eames grinned. "You're right. It is very pleasant here. Lots of beds…and those beds are often full of willing, naked men."

"You're-" Cobb shook his head. "You're really something, you know that?"

"Cliché, Dom." Eames fished for a cigarette. "But so true."

Cobb turned. "Goodbye Eames."

"Bye Dom." The voice was mocking. "Mop up Arthur's tears during the trial, won't you?"

Cobb walked.

* * *

The sun was beginning to lower. Arthur checked his watch. Nightfall would be in approximately two hours. He then knew that Eames would probably head to one of the casinos, or poker halls.

He suddenly realised he was standing in front of a bar. He ran his tongue round his mouth – he was dry. On impulse, he walked in, and found the room to be large, and busy.

Moving to the bar, he smiled at the female bartender.

"Hi,"

"Hey," she looked at him. "What can I get you?"

"Beer, please. And a glass of ice water."

A few minutes later, two glasses of liquid were in front of him. Arthur picked them up, and decided to sit to wait for sunset. He scanned the room. He noticed there were some balconies with tables, and walked towards one of them.

As he approached, he noticed a man. Dark haired, tall, slightly bulky. Smoking.

* * *

Eames exhaled and relaxed. Cobb was no longer a problem, he was sure of it. He could stay here, go back to London if necessary. It didn't bother him.

Arthur. He shrugged mentally. Being away from him was making him realise just how little mileage had been left in the relationship. He knew that it had descended into a nightmare.

He shrugged. Walking away was the best option. He reached for his glass, when he heard footsteps behind him, accompanied by a tantalising smelling cologne.

"Well," he spoke into the glass. "I have no idea who you are, but you smell divine."

"Oh really?" Arthur's voice was quiet. "Then you have a very short memory, Eames."


	62. Chapter 62

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Eames turned his head. His eyes narrowed as he took in Arthur. The Point Man was trying to stay calm, but Eames picked up on his slightly ragged breathing.

"My God," Eames said softly. "Miles actually let you out of your playpen to travel here by yourself. What happened? Did he get as sick of you as I did? Or is it that you missed me? Do enlighten me."

Arthur stood straight. "He doesn't know I'm here."

"Well." Eames took another sip of beer. "Then you're here without the police knowing as well. Are you supposed to be leaving the country? Considering you're wanted for first degree assault?"

"You know I didn't do that." Arthur was astounded at how calm his voice sounded. Now he was confronting his lover and tormentor, he was amazed at how the words sprang easily to his lips, and how he was simply delivering them. "You know you set me up. All you need to do is make one phone call, and its over."

"You sure about that?"

"Yes." Arthur looked at Eames. "Please, let me go. Ring the police. Tell them the truth. Then I'll go, and you'll never have to see me again. You can go back to London, I'll go back to Paris. The only people who'll ever know what really happened will be us, Miles, and Dom. Please Eames."

"Say it again. Nicely."

Arthur swallowed. "Please…" his voice was beginning to take on a pleading edge. Eames smirked.

"You're so obedient, you know that Arthur? Part of the reason why I put up with you for so long. Keep begging, it makes you attractive."

Arthur blinked. "Eames. Let me go. Please."

"Whats it worth?" The Forger's voice had taken on a hard edge. "Whats me ringing the police worth? One phone call, I could exonerate you. But why would I, Arthur? Why would I do that?"

"Because – because you set me up." Arthur was trying to maintain his self control. "Because we were together for nearly three years. And you hurt me, Eames. If you weren't beating the shit out of me, you were verbally abusing me. Making me feel like the-"

"Awww, dear." Eames' tone was mocking. "Are you going to cry? Oh, I think you are! What a surprise! Go ahead, Arthur, cry! No-one's here to mop your tears up, so I guess I'll just have to put up with it."

Arthur swallowed. He walked to the chair opposite Eames, and sat down.

"-You made me feel like utter shit." Arthur continued, making eye contact. "Made me feel like I didn't have the right to live. And you kept on doing it."

"And you let me."

Arthur sat up. "What?"

"You heard me, you manipulative bastard." Eames took another sip of beer. "Don't start the 'you made me feel so bad' crap. You could have left at any time. You're young, wealthy, not bad looking, in a certain light – and yet you stayed with me. You stayed, Arthur. And shall I tell you why? Because deep down, you liked it."

"I didn't like it, Eames, I-"

"Dug it." Eames was leaning back in his seat, a smirk snaking across his face. "Everytime I punched you, you could have hit me back. You never did. Everytime I verbally abused you, you could have said something back, and you never did. You know how to handle a gun. You could have shot me yourself. And you never did. You just kept on crying and whining to Cobb, looking to him to protect you. Some Point Man. You really are the most pathetic, needy, whining little creep I've ever come across."

"If I'm so pathetic," Arthur spoke quietly, "why did you go for me in the first place?"

"You want the truth?" Eames lit a cigarette.

"Yes."

"Its because I could. I saw you, and I saw this man who was lonely, and vulnerable. Who hides it behind this cold mask. I knew that you would respond to a little bit of affection, and soak it up like a sponge. It was easy to manipulate your infantile emotions. All I had to do was give the impression I was interested. And you responded. You thought no-one would ever be interested in you. And you thought I was. And then, I realised you're pretty good in the sack, so it seemed like something that could work."

Arthur blinked. Eames watched him, and smiled.

"Then I realised what an utter pain in the backside you are. So controlling. So whiny. Everything has to be your way. You got on my nerves. But I also knew that you could be manipulated into doing what I wanted. So I thought I'd keep going .But you got worse. You push my buttons, Arthur. You annoy me, you wind me up, you irritate me. And I have a bad temper. You wouldn't listen to anything I said, so punching you seemed the best option."

"You raped me-"

"You never pressed charges, did you? Probably the best shag you ever had! Do you realise that sometimes, fucking you was like a corpse? Just lying there? You're so cold, Arthur. See a therapist!"

"Eames." Arthur looked at him. "I – I wish I knew how I could have made it work."

"Well, simple answer – stop being so bloody critical of everything. Stop trying to control everything. Start being a bit more affectionate. Stop feeling the need to be so fucking annoying. Go to the gym, bulk up a bit. Stop being so pathetic."

"In other words, change."

"Yep." Eames exhaled a mouthful of smoke. "Got it in one, Artie. Good boy."

Arthur looked at Eames. "If I change – will you come back with me?"

"I might do. You make a nice pet."

Arthur swallowed. Then leaned forward and put his hand on Eames' thigh. "How about you come back to my hotel?"

"Are you trying to seduce me?" Eames leaned forward. "Because if so, try harder."

Arthur smiled. He pushed his hand up Eames' thigh, almost to his crotch. "How about I put my hand further up?"

Eames' eyes narrowed. "Now you're talking."

* * *

Cobb cursed himself. He'd left his sunglasses on the table. He decided that Eames would have left, and he was unlikely to bump into him again. He pushed his way back through the crowds, and headed towards the bar.

As he entered, he moved towards the table, and blinked in astonishment. Seeing Arthur there – Arthur, with his hand practically on Eames' groin – was the last thing he expected.

He stood stock still. Then, to his growing horror, he saw them both get up. Eames casually wound his arm round the younger man's waist. As they started to leave, Cobb darted back into the shadows. As the two men decided to go down a flight of stairs, Cobb made the decision. He would follow them.

* * *

"So, lets see whats under that shirt?"

Eames was lounging in the bed of Arthur's hotel room, naked except for his black silk boxers. His body was glistening with sweat. Arthur was undressing. His khaki pants had dropped to the floor, and he was carefully undoing his shirt.

"Come on, Artie," Eames' voice was a throaty purr. "You know I don't like to be kept waiting."

Arthur smiled, casually slipping the shirt off his shoulders, and exposing his chest. Eames raised his eyebrows.

"You're a bit too thin," he commented. "Still, we can rectify that. I promise I won't break you. Come here…"

Arthur started to move forward. Eames put a hand out, and grabbed him, dragging him onto him.

"Still the same Arthur. So trusting…"

* * *

Cobb walked through the hotel lobby, angry and worried. He'd demanded to know where Arthur was staying. Tailing them had been a frenetic nightmare of missing and re-sighting. Finally, he'd seen them enter the hotel, and go upstairs.

He started running, taking the stairs two at a time. He approached the door, his heart starting to pound.

Suddenly, he heard a voice.

"No, please, please, don't do that- I'm sorry – I-"

A shot rang out. Cobb froze, terrified of what he'd find.


	63. Chapter 63

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

"You think I'm trusting?"

"Oh yes." Eames smiled lazily, and ran his hand down Arthur's face. "So trusting."

Arthur crawled over the bed, coming closer to Eames. "I am trusting, aren't I? But Eames, you don't realise that something has-"

Suddenly, he felt his words being cut off. A hand was clenching his upper arm, tightly and painfully. Another hand was gripping the back of his head, pushing him down.

"What don't I realise?" The Forger's words came out in a malevolent hiss. "That you've changed? That you're stronger now? What were you planning to do, beat me up? Shoot me? God, you really thought I didn't think you wouldn't try that?"

Arthur felt his head being pressed down further, towards' Eames crotch. The erection was hard, he noticed.

"Right. Suck it, you slut." Eames spat out. "Come on, slut, use your mouth and do something useful with it!"

Arthur choked. "I'm not a slut, Eames."

"Beg to differ. You can't get it up for me, but you got it up for that whore. Put your lips round it, and suck!"

Eames' fingers were gripping into the back of his head. Arthur opened his mouth – and let his bottom teeth sink slightly into the Forger's throbbing erection. He heard a strangled gasp.

"You little cunt!" A stinging backhand blow was felt by Arthur across his face. He quickly scrambled over to the other side of the bed, preparing to put his feet on the floor. A heavy blow to the side made him gasp, and fall off the bed. He tried to push himself back up, but an uppercut delivered to his jaw made him taste blood, and sink back, gasping.

"You…slut…" Eames was spitting out the words, his face incandescent with rage. "You just don't get it, do you Arthur? You don't get it! You really think I'm going to change? You really think you're going to have everything your way? Think again!"

Arthur crawled backwards away from Eames, his anger starting to rise. "You can't do this anymore," he choked out, the words tasting of blood. "You can't do it to me Eames."

"Oh really?" The Forger was starting to laugh. "Look at you, pathetic, crawling on the floor? Is this The Point Man that Cobb relies upon? The Point Man that made Ariadne wet for the first few weeks? No, it's the Point Man who cries like a baby when someone says something nasty to him, who can't seemingly go anywhere without his dummy!"

Eames strode over, and grabbed Arthur by the upper arms. "Come on, Artie, lets have some fun! I missed the way you wriggle!" He started hoisting him into the bathroom.

"Eames, let go of me, I'll-"

"No chance." The Forger pushed him hard, and he fell head first into the bathtub. "Right, lets get your underwear off, bet you're as tight as a Victorian virgin – then again, you were always frigid as one!"

Arthur bucked with his legs, causing his feet to hit Eames in his midriff. The Forger staggered back, as Arthur used his arms to push himself up and out of the bathtub.

"What the fuck-" The Forger was gasping, as he turned round. "What the hell are you-"

Arthur was on his feet. Blood had run down his jaw, and bruising was starting to appear on his torso. He was looking at Eames, his lips starting to draw back.

"You can't do this anymore Eames," he stated. "I mean it."

"Haven't even started," Eames hissed. "You've been begging for this all the time we've been together, you-"

He was suddenly cut off, as Arthur elbowed him in the face. Pushing past, he headed for the bedroom, and started to fumble in his khaki pants that were lying, crumpled on the floor.

"Where are you?" The Forger was choking with rage as he lumbered into the bedroom. His eyes widened.

Arthur stood with a gun. Pointing straight at him.

Eames took a step back. "Artie, put that down. Before someone gets hurt."

Arthur didn't blink. "Before someone gets hurt? I think you mean you."

Eames put his hands up, placatingly. "I know you do, Artie. Here. Putting my hands up."

Arthur swallowed and clicked the gun. Eames' eyes widened.

"Arthur, you wouldn't, you really-"

"Why not?" Arthur's voice was taut as a wire. "I've got nothing to lose. I'm under suspicion. I've been arrested. My life is over. Just what you wanted."

"Now, Artie," Eames voice was soothing. "You know that this isn't the solution. You know that I love you really. You know that without you, I'm nothing. Please."

"Eames." Arthur's vision was beginning to blur with tears. "With you, I'm nothing."

"Just don't do this." Eames' voice was starting to sound panic stricken. "Please don't Artie. Please."

Arthur cocked the trigger. "I shoot you, Eames, I can just disappear. No-one will ever find me."

"You kill me," Eames voice was low, "And you'll never forgive yourself. You know that, Arthur. You'll always regret it."

Arthur paused. "I'm willing to take the risk."

"Please don't, I'm begging you, Arthur, please don't..."

Arthur closed his eyes, and fired.


	64. Chapter 64

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews welcome, thank you!**

Cobb approached the door, his heart racing. He couldn't bear to think of what he might find inside.

* * *

Arthur opened his eyes, lowering his arm. The gun dangled from his fingers, heavy and cold. He looked down.

Eames was lying on the floor, his face twisted with pain. A bullet wound was in his left shoulder.

"Eames!" Arthur knelt down beside him, guilt and fear beginning to suffuse his thoughts. "Eames, can you hear me? Did you-"

The Forger looked at him, shock clouding his face. "You- shot me-" he gasped out.

"I –" Arthur couldn't think of a coherent response. He looked frantically around the room, looking for something – anything – to dress the wound. He went to the bed, and began to tear at one of the sheets. Swallowing, he took it over to Eames.

"Can you – lift yourself up?"

Eames twisted his torso slightly, his face contorting. Arthur carefully put the sheet under his shoulder and began to tie a makeshift tourniquet.

"You- you-"

Arthur pulled the sheet tight. His hands were beginning to shake. Suddenly, a loud pounding at the door made his heart leap into his throat. He stood up.

"Who-what-?"

"Arthur! Its Cobb! Let me in, Goddamnit!"

Arthur went to the door, and the Extractor pushed past. His jaw dropped when he saw Eames.

"What- what did you-"

"He shot me." Eames' voice was calm, strangely emotionless. "He shot me, Dom."

Cobb gave Arthur an abrupt push, sending him reeling. He hurried to the Forger's side. "OK, where is the wound?" His voice was curt. "Let me see."

His hands gently raked over Eames' skin, the Forger wincing. "OK, it looks clean – missed the bone."

Eames choked. "Lousy shot."

Cobb ignored this comment. "Arthur. Go and get some help. Now."

The Point Man froze. "You're not-"

"Not what?"

"Not serious, Dom-" his voice trailed away. Cobb tightened the tourniquet round Eames' shoulder.

"Eames. Lie still." He got up. The Point Man as standing, frozen, in the corner of the room. His face was ashen. The Extractor walked over to him. Taking his forearm, he pulled him into the ensuite shower room. Lowering his voice, his words were direct and pointed.

"What the hell did you do?"

Arthur swallowed. "I came back here – I pointed, and I shot."

"I noticed." Cobb's voice was ice. "Do you have any idea what you've just done? You've just gone and done exactly what you were under suspicion for! You've committed first degree assault, Arthur!"

The Point Man blinked. "I know."

"Why didn't you stay with Miles? I could have sorted it out! I would have tried to –" Cobb looked at Arthur, anger playing across his face. "You've really –"

"I had to do something!" Arthur's voice had a razor edge. "Did you expect me to keep on being the victim? I had to come and do something!"

"You've now made Eames the victim," Cobb looked over at the Forger. "This could go down as-" he swallowed – "attempted murder. You could get twenty years or more!"

"I'm not going back." Arthur's jaw was set.

"You can't live in the underground." Cobb looked at him, steadily. "You do have a case. Spousal abuse. Justifiable provocation. But Arthur, Jesus Christ-"

Arthur blinked. "Please, Dom. I'm sorry. But I just –"

"Snapped." Cobb nodded. "I'm sorry too. I should have made you stay with me. I should never have taken you to Berlin. I feel responsible for this. My best friend, being beaten to a pulp every night, and I did nothing near to what I could have done."

"Dom-"

Cobb ran a hand over his face. "We have to get Eames some medical help. Then we have to go back. The three of us. You'll be arrested on re-entry."

Arthur swallowed. "I'm here under the false passport you gave me."

"What?"

"I had no other way out!"

Cobb looked at him, trying to control his anger. He exhaled. "Arthur – you- "

"I know." Arthur said simply. "I know. I've thrown my life away, and I've threatened yours. I'm sorry Dom. I know I shouldn't have stayed, but I loved-"

Suddenly, the two men heard voices. The door of the bathroom swung open.

"Come out!" An angry voice shouted. Two hotel staff were standing there, both ranting angrily in a mixture of English and their native tongue. Arthur blinked. An arm closed around his wrist, and pulled him out.

"Yes," Eames was wrapped in a blanket, and had been moved to a chair. A young woman was smiling at him, sympathetically. "Thats him. He shot me." He shivered. "He dropped the gun over there."

Arthur blinked. Before he could move, cold, hard metal was clamped around his wrist. The coolly dispassionate eyes of a police officer were gazing at him. He began to speak, in a language Arthur couldn't comprehend.

Cobb opened his mouth. "Excuse me, translation, please?"

Another man stepped forward. He fired out a few words, and the officer nodded. Then, turning to Arthur, he spoke in a monotonous voice:

"Mr Palmer. You have shot a man in this hotel. You are under arrest. It has been mentioned that you are wanted under another name in the country you travelled from. We will contact the embassy and make arrangements for your deportation."

Arthur gasped. Cobb felt his heart explode in his chest.

"Look," he tried to speak calmly. "I'm sure there is-"

The Police Officer turned to him with coldly angry eyes. He barked out a few words. The translator gave a comprehending nod, and then turned to Cobb.

"Do you wish to be questioned as well, Sir?"

Cobb shook his head, understanding the implied threat. Numbly, he took a step back, and watched as Arthur pulled on his shirt before the handcuffs were clamped around his second wrist.

Cobb looked at the shaken, ashen faced Point Man. "Arthur." His voice was low but urgent. "Arthur!"

Arthur turned his head, dazedly.

"Arthur. Do everything they say. I will get you out of this, I promise."

Arthur was led away. Looking at the two women attending to Eames with distaste, Cobb hurried out of the room.


	65. Chapter 65

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

The shrill sound of the phone made Miles' start. Getting up, he moved to pick it up. "Hello?"

"Miles? Dom."

"Where are you, Son?"

"I'm-" Cobb paused, and swallowed. "I'm at the airport. Its all gone- " he felt himself starting to choke up. "Its all gone –"

"Stay there. Don't go anywhere. I'll be there in fifteen."

* * *

Arthur looked up as the door clanged. A young officer stood in the doorway. He looked at the Point Man, who upon arrival at the jail, had been handed regulation clothing.

"Richards." His voice was heavy. "Questioning. Now."

Nodding, Arthur got up. Allowing himself to be cuffed, he walked beside the officer. As he entered the interview room, he saw that Leeds was again the questioner.

He swallowed. Leeds stood up.

"Thank you Officer." He waited for Arthur to be directed to a chair. "Mr Richards, I have some questions to ask you. You need to be honest with your answers, but please bear in mind they could be given in evidence. Do you understand?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes."

Leeds flipped through a file. "it states here that on the 14th of this month, you skipped bail, and travelled to Mombasa to try and find your domestic partner. Is that true?"

"Yes."

"You found him, went with him to his hotel, and you shot him in the shoulder. Is that true?"

"Yes."

Leeds leaned back. "Mr Richards. Part of your bail condition was that you did not attempt to leave the city. You were released – due to your history of erratic behaviour – into the care of Mr Dom Cobb and Mr Miles Simmons. You have violated that."

Arthur nodded. "Yes."

"This is very unusual." Leeds looked at him. "We can't charge you for what happened in Mombasa. But I assure you, you will be charged for everything here. Especially that assault on Mr Eames in your home."

Arthur felt himself choking.

"You are looking at a potential sentence of up to ten years." Leeds' face was cold. "Ten years, Mr Richards. I really hope you use that time to reflect upon what you've done."

* * *

As Cobb entered the house, he blinked. Ariadne rushed over to hug him. "Cobb!"

"Oh, God!" He choked out. Pulling her close, he inhaled her scent and wrapped his arms around her tightly. "Oh, I'm so glad you're here!"

She pulled away. "Whats happened? Where's Arthur?"

Cobb swallowed. "Arthur came back under deportation. He was arrested at the airport." His voice started to break. Ariadne's jaw sagged.

"Arthur? Arrested?"

Cobb nodded. "Yes. And this time-"

His face crumpled. Moving to the couch, tears started to flow down his face. Miles sat down next to him, and pulled him close.

"It will be allright, Dom." He let his son-in-law give vent to his emotions. "We can still get him out."

Cobb sank deeper onto the sofa. Fatigue was washing over him in a wave. Closing his eyes, he could still see the dark, dank confines of the Mombasa jail, and the fear visible on Arthur's face. He'd been permitted to put on some clothes, but the handcuffs, Cobb had seen, had rubbed his wrists raw.

Arthur had looked diminished, frail in this hostile environment. Cobb had wanted to reassure him, but part of him couldn't stop thinking that if he'd only stayed where he'd been left-

His eyes flew open. He couldn't apportion blame; it was pointless. Swallowing, he got up and looked at Miles and Ariadne.

"We can't get him out." His voice was tired, defeated. "Its over."

* * *

Arthur pulled his knees close to his chest, trying to get comfortable on the hard wooden bench. The surroundings were stark, deliberately designed to make someone as uncomfortable as possible.

He shivered. The bricks were cold. All his personal possessions had been confiscated – including his loaded die. But he didn't need a totem to tell him that this was real.

He closed his eyes. When he and Eames had first got together, he'd felt happy. Then it had descended into a nightmare.

Eames didn't love him. Didn't even like him. He had used him, for his own gratification. Arthur felt the tears beginning to well up, then brushed them aside. The last thing he would do was break down in front of the grim faced wardens.

He began to think through his options. When he'd served his sentence, he would go to South America, try and find any work he could. He couldn't go to his family – it was too humiliating, too embarrassing. He swallowed. The only family he now felt he had were Cobb and Miles.

Suddenly, the door clanged. He sat up, blinking.

"Richards." The warden's voice was heavy, slightly distasteful. "Visitor!"

Arthur got up, slowly. "Who is it?"

The warden grinned. "Someone who says they love you very much. Aren't you lucky?"

Arthur felt something cold and ugly shift in his stomach; its twin copied this in his mind. "Who?"

"Come and see!"

Arthur followed the larger man down the hallway. The grey prison clothes were shapeless and shabby, and he felt too small for them.

They turned into the visiting room. The sole occupant got up.

"Well, well Artie," Eames spoke calmly, malice in his voice. "Grey never did suit you."


	66. Chapter 66

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Arthur looked at Eames. "You're here to gloat?" His voice was tired, defeated. "You got me Eames."

Eames looked astonished. "Gloat? No, not at all. I'm here to...cut you a deal."

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "A deal?"

"Yes." Eames leaned forward, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Here it is."

* * *

Cobb swallowed half a cup of coffee, and gazed blindly out over the view from the window.

Without Arthur, he felt, the Extraction business was finished. He clenched his fists. What Arthur had done was stupid. He should never have gone to Mombasa. But what Eames had done was criminal.

Cobb slammed his hand against the balcony that overlooked the warehouse. He was searching frantically for something he could do.

* * *

Eames smiled at Arthur. "So what do you think?"

Arthur looked at him. "You're suggesting that you go to the police – and confess you shot yourself in the leg – and that will allow them to release me."

"Yep." Eames nodded. "Well done."

"But..." Arthur's voice faded. "Then you're suggesting that-"

"I'm not suggesting. I'm saying. I get you out of here...but you can't leave me. You stay with me. Forever." There was a burning intensity in Eames' face. "You can't leave me."

Arthur looked at him. "But you'll only-"

"Only what?"

"Abuse me again."

Eames looked contrite. "Arthur. I think I've learned my lesson. What I did to you was stupid, cruel...and wrong. But the prospect of you being in here for ten years...I need to get you out."

The Point Man swallowed. "OK, Eames. If you think you can get me out."

"I can." The Forger nodded. "Trust me."

* * *

Arthur curled up in the corner of the cell. He felt vulnerable, and defenceless. Despite Eames' assertions, he didn't believe them.

It was cold, and he shivered. As he closed his eyes, he suddenly became aware of a loud grating noise. The sound of the cell door being unlocked and pulled open.

"Richards!" The warden barked. "Get up!"

Arthur complied. The warden thrust an armful of clothes at him. "Here."

The Point Man blinked.

"Get changed," the Warden snapped. "You're out of here."

Arthur re-dressed himself, then headed to the front desk. Standing there, he watched as his possessions were counted out and handed back to him.

"Right, we've got a...neckchain, wrist watch, wallet, cellphone, and a loaded die." The desk warden looked at him. "Sign here, please."

Arthur signed. His fingers shook as he held the pen. The warden waited, irritably.

"Right, come on." He led Arthur out to the front. "This is it." Turning, he walked back into the building.

Arthur was motionless. The sun was bright, and he winced. Suddenly, he heard a voice calling out. "Arthur!"

He turned. Eames came running up ,and before he could move, enveloped him in a bear hug.

"Oh, god, you're out at last!" Eames tightened his grip to the point where Arthur felt his ribs start to protest. "Come on, lets go!"

Arthur allowed himself to be led. He felt so dazed, he didn't think he could do anything else. Numbly, Eames took his hand, and began to pull him towards a car.

"Have a seat."

Arthur nodded. As the car pulled away from the curb, he leant his head against the doorframe.

"You ok?" Eames' voice was gentle.

Arthur nearly choked. After what had happened to him, that was the most fascile, ridiculous question he could have been asked. He nodded, tight lipped. "I've been better."

"I know you have, Arthur." Eames' tone was soothing. "Don't worry, we'll be home soon."

Arthur shrugged. He'd gone beyond the point of arguing with Eames. He slumped in his seat, dozing.

"Yes, I'll hold." Cobb tapped his fingers impatiently on the desk. "Yes, this is Dom Cobb...I'm asking after an inmate, Arthur Richards."

Cobb waited. Suddenly his face froze.

"No, please tell me you're joking." His voice was hoarse.

"Here we are!" Eames spoke brightly.

Arthur allowed himself to be led up the familiar path. It all felt too surreal. Eames put his key in the lock, and turned.

"Oh, you're here already!" Eames called out. Suddenly, a prickle of fear travelled down Arthur's spine.

"Of course I am," a male voice spoke, as a slim figure began to walk out of the kitchen towards them both. "I see you did persuade them to let him out. Bet the million dollar pay off helped, didn't it?"

Arthur felt his blood turn to ice.

Robert Fischer stood, smiling in front of him.


	67. Chapter 67

Fischer smiled, clearly enjoying Arthur's obvious discomfort.

"So..." he settled himself in an armchair. "How are you, Arthur?"

Arthur swallowed. "Do I even have to answer that?" He was surprised at how forceful his voice sounded. "I've been arrested and spent time inside for something I didn't do."

"Yes...but you did skip bail and go to Mombasa." Fischer smiled. "That took guts, Arthur, really."

Arthur took a deep breath. "I needed to see Eames."

"Can't imagine why." Fisher looked at the Point Man, his head cocked to one side. "From what I've been told, your relationship sounds like a nightmare."

Arthur flinched. Fischer's ice blue eyes penetrated into his.

"We have had our problems," Eames spoke up, "but nothing we can't solve. Especially as Arthur's agreed he's going to work things out."

"Good." Robert ran his hand over the smooth material of the armchair. "Especially since coming back to me is not a viable option, Eames."

Arthur felt as though he'd been doused with cold water. "What?"

Fisher looked at him. "You didn't know? Oh, Arthur. Eames and I had a brief fling a couple of years ago. Don't you remember? He had to suddenly fly to LA on business?"

Arthur's jaw was sagging. "But we'd – we'd only been together six months..."

"And I was bored," Eames interrupted. "Besides, Robert can do things in bed you would never even consider. Just my luck I get stuck with someone completely vanilla, isn't it?"

Arthur fought back tears.

"Oh, don't worry," Robert said, kindly. "I'm actually engaged now – to the daughter of a media mogul. Its purely for show, of course, but as she stands to inherit a company worth over a billion, its a marriage made in heaven. Besides, I doubt anyone would look at you twice now, Arthur."

"So why have you paid to get me out?" A spark of self-respect re-ignited in the Point Man. "What do you want, Fischer?"

Fischer leaned back in his seat, and studied the Point Man.

"Its very simple," he smiled. "I want you to perform an extraction. I can't ask Cobb, but when I heard from Eames that you were in some, uh, difficulty, I thought it would be the perfect solution."

Arthur looked at him. "Do I have a choice?"

"No." Fischer smiled. A smile that reminded Arthur of a serpent. "Unless, of course, you want to go straight back to jail?"

"Oh, he doesn't want that," Eames said, getting up and walking over to Arthur. One hand was extended and began to rub up and down Arthur's back. "He'd much rather be with me."

Arthur stiffened. "Eames, I-"

"Don't have a choice," the Forger said, smoothly. "Unless of course, you really think Cobb is going to bail you out?"

"Trust me, Dom Cobb can't afford to get involved." Fischer stood up. "I mean, he's only in the US because of the strings Saito pulled. If it wasn't for him, he'd be in jail right now. He's trapped, and so are you."

"Why are you doing this?" Arthur demanded. "What is it with you?"

"Its business, Arthur." Fischer spoke crisply. "Don't be so damned naive. You're useful to me, and therefore, I'm paying a million dollars to keep you out of jail. But if you break this bargain, you go straight back there. And remember, I could send Cobb in there with you."

"So I'm just a commodity?"

"Yes." Fischer's eyes bored into him. "And remember – you need to do this correctly."

Arthur swallowed. "So where's the information?"

"Meet me tomorrow, 10 am." Fischer turned to walk out the door. "Eames has all the details."

Arthur stood stock still and watched Fischer leave.

Eames was tickling his back. He sighed. "You like?"

"Always did."

"Oh, yes, I forgot how sensitive you are here..." his fingers became more insistent, pressing hard. Arthur felt a faint moan escape his lips. Eames began to push his hand into Arthur's waistband, his fingers moving down towards his buttocks.

"Oh, Arthur..." He began to nip at his neck. "Come on, lets go upstairs."

"I need a shower," the Point Man murmured, a twist of fear beginning to form in his stomach.

"And you shall have one, and I'll scrub your back for you." Both hands were now inside Arthur's boxers, Eames' fingernails beginning to scrape along his skin. He started to pull Arthur closer to him.

Arthur began to push him away. "Eames. Stop."

"What?"

"You heard me." Arthur swallowed. "This...can't happen. I'm sorry. There is no relationship. After everything thats happened, everything you put me through...and you still act as though nothing happened-"

"Oh, Christ." Eames pulled away, and began to glare at Arthur. "You still don't get it, do you?"

Arthur swallowed.

"You still don't get that if you try and leave, thats it. Your life is over. Why don't you realise how much I love you? I know I've done some shit things, Arthur, but its because I'm terrified of you leaving me!"

"You slept with Fischer!"

"And you fucked a prostitute! We're even, right?" Eames grabbed his shoulders, and pushed him up against the wall. His mouth and tongue were suddenly on and in Arthur's hot, invasive, and aggressive.

"We do this job," Arthur whispered, "and then we sever ties. Forever."

Eames smiled.

"If you say so, Artie."


	68. Chapter 68

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Cobb banged on the door. "Eames! Open it!"

The door inched open. The Forger stood in the doorway, smiling.

"Dom! How good to see you!"

The Extractor set his jaw, and pushed past him. "Arthur!"

Eames stood patiently in the hallway, listening to Cobb shout. "He's not here."

Cobb turned round. "Then where is he?"

"He's…" Eames paused to pull his cigarettes out of his bathrobe pocket, and flick the lighter. "He's on a job."

"What?"

"You heard."

Cobb looked at Eames. "Have you-?"

"No." Eames' eyes glittered. "No, I haven't." He took a drag on his cigarette. "He's perfectly healthy. Haven't harmed him in any way."

"Then where is he?" Cobb took a step forward.

Eames smirked. "At the Sunset de Marquis."

* * *

Arthur swallowed as he walked into the lobby of the Sunset de Marquis. Clad in a sharp grey suit, carrying a briefcase, he looked perfectly composed. He swallowed, trying to forget the comments that had been made to him that morning:

"_You'd better not fuck this up, Arthur."_

"_I won't."_

"_Good. Because if you do…you know where you're going…and trust me, I won't visit."_

"_I wouldn't want you to visit me!"_

"_You little-!"_

Arthur winced, still feeling the blow across his shoulder blades. He straightened himself, and approached the receptionist.

She smiled at him. "May I help you?"

He too a deep breath. "Please. I'm looking for Julian Shriver."

She checked a list. "Oh, yes. Mr Shriver checked in half an hour ago. I can call his room?"

Arthur nodded. "Please."

"One moment." She picked up the phone.

* * *

Cobb drove. He noticed the speed limit, and eased his foot off the gas.

"Arthur," he muttered, "you have let him go too far."

* * *

"Mr Shriver will see you upstairs."

"Thank you." Arthur clutched his briefcase and went to the elevators. As he got out, and approached room 2456, he felt a slight tremour of nerves. He knocked on the door.

"One moment!" called a voice.

Arthur took a deep breath. As the door opened, he swallowed. A tall, very good looking man stood on the other side.

"Hi," he smiled. "Are you – Arthur?"

"Yes," Arthur replied, flushing slightly.

"Come on in."

Arthur entered, trying hard not to look at Shriver.

"So, you've been sent here by Robert Fischer, am I correct?"

"Yes."

"Have a seat."

Arthur sat, whilst Shriver headed to the mini-bar. "Can I get you anything?"

The Point Man swallowed. "Water, please."

"Of course. One moment." Within seconds, a glass of ice water was in Arthur's hand. He took a sip.

"So…" Shriver sat down opposite Arthur. "You're here to ask me about my company, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, you can tell Fisher this – I have no intention of selling." Shriver gave Arthur a tight smile. "So, you can stop wasting your time, and I can move onto more serious matters."

Arthur sighed. "Mr Shriver, you don't understand. This is-"

"No, you don't understand." Shriver's voice was hard. "I know Fischer. We were at Exeter together. He's just like his old man – thinks everything's for sale. Sorry, it isn't. But, here's a question – are you?"

Arthur blinked. "Excuse me?"

Shriver smiled. "Sorry. But one of the key rules in business is to grab opportunities when they present themselves. Fischer has sent me a very good looking young man – are you the bribe?"

Arthur stood up. "No. I'm not." He kept the dignity in his voice. "I'm no-one's bribe, thanks." He turned, and walked out of the door, trying to keep his breathing steady.

* * *

Cobb sat in the lobby. He realised he was attracting suspicious looks, but decided he could live with it.

Suddenly, he saw Arthur walking out through the lobby, looking flustered. He got up. "Arthur!"

The Point Man turned, and a look of panic crossed his face. He began to jog, Cobb keeping pace behind him.

"Arthur!"

"Leave me alone!" The Point Man kept going. Cobb grabbed his shoulder.

"Arthur, what the hell are you doing?"

"I've been set up," Arthur said, his voice tight.

"By whom?" Cobb demanded. "Eames?"

"Fischer." Arthur said, bitterly.

Cobb's jaw dropped. "Fischer?"

"Yep. He got me bail…as long as I perform little jobs for him."

"Oh, Arthur…"

"What can I do, Cobb?" Arthur sounded broken. "Its over. Its completely over."

Cobb tightened his lips. "No it isn't Arthur. Trust me."

Arthur looked at him. "I don't trust anyone, Cobb. Including you."

Cobb, reeling from this rejection, watched as the Point Man began to walk away.


	69. Chapter 69

**Quick Heads up –**

Brief hiatus for this fic – I'm going on holiday for the next week.

This is to say a massive thank you to everyone who has been reading and also reviewing this story – it means a great deal to me.

I'll update when I get back – have a good week, everyone!


	70. Chapter 70

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Many thanks to Moon's the Limit for the pointers! All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Arthur swallowed. The silence in the Warehouse was deafening. He sat down, gazing dully at the equipment that surrounded him. It didn't seem to bear any resemblance to what his life now was.

He rubbed his face, wondering how it had gone so wrong, so quickly. He'd got out of jail, but he knew that Eames, and Fischer, now had him on a leash for the rest of his life. He shivered, thinking of the threats that had been made. Him and Cobb. Trapped.

His eyes wandered to the PASIV. There had to be a better reality than this. He took his totem out of his pocket, and rolled it. It stopped abruptly. This was reality.

Swallowing, Arthur got up, and pulled out the line, hooking it into his arm. Checking there was enough sedative in the machine, he began to fall into bottomless space.

* * *

Cobb banged on the door. "Who is it?"

"I'm not leaving until you talk to me!" Cobb shouted. His fury with Eames had reached an all time high.

The Forger pulled the door open. "Oh, Cobb, what a pleasant-" he broke off as the Extractor charged past him.

"Spare me the pleasantries." Cobb's fist was clenched. "What have you done to Arthur?"

Eames rolled his eyes. "Arthur, Arthur, Arthur. I am so sick and tired of everyone worrying about Arthur!" He pulled his cigarettes out of his pocket. "Don't you realise- " his eyes flashed – "that I don't care?"

"You've made that clear," Cobb said, coldly. "You torment him, you hurt him-"

"And he still comes back to me." Eames finished. "Face it, he loves it."

"What does he love, exactly?"

"My apologies. The fact that I always try and make it up to him." Eames exhaled a lungful of smoke. "Arthur loves it. Oh, I can't explain it. But it works."

Cobb narrowed his eyes. "It has to end."

"Of course it does." Eames said, smoothly. "Question is, how do you want it to?"

* * *

Arthur opened his eyes. He was in the grounds of a house. Getting up, he walked slowly to the front door. Straightening his shoulders, he knocked on it.

The door flew open, and he smiled. "Eames, I'm back."

"Than Christ." The Forger leaned down, and hugged him tight. "You've been gone so long…"

"Half an hour?" Arthur pulled a face. "Sorry, I forgot my key."

"And your phone." The Forger chided him. "Honestly, Arthur, if I wasn't here-"

"I'd be lost," the Point Man commented. He let himself be drawn in for a kiss. Eames rubbed his back.

"So would I," Eames commented. "God, Arthur, if anything happened to you, I'd-"

"What?" Arthur turned to the Forger. "What, Eames?"

"Wouldn't know what to do," the Forger admitted. He clutched at Arthur.

Arthur relinquished his grip. "Eames, you're being clingy."

"I know," Eames admitted. "I'm clingy, aren't I?"

"Yes." Arthur smiled, and pulled him closer. "You are clingy. And needy. And demanding. But I put up with it…because I know that you love me. And it makes me feel safe."

Eames rubbed his back. "Time for a quickie?"

"You're so charming!" Arthur laughed. "I can't refuse an offer like that, can I?"

* * *

"I'm going to make you an offer." Cobb breathed. He put his hands on the table, and leaned forward.

"Oh, yes?" Eames raised his eyebrows.

"Half a million." Cobb swallowed. "I'll give you half a million. Then, leave. Just go."

"What about Fischer?"

"So you think you have influential friends?" Cobb smiled. "Remember Saito? I think he might just be persuaded to help Arthur out."

Eames smiled, sourly. "Reckon you can persuade Saito to pay off Arthur's bail, keep him out of trouble?"

"If Saito could fix my problem with one phone call," Cobb replied, "I reckon he could fix Arthur's with an email."

Eames looked at him. "Go ahead. But when Arthur finds me gone…it'll break his heart."

"I'm sure," Cobb glared at him. "But at least it won't be his neck."

* * *

Arthur sighed as Eames ran his fingers lightly down his back. He moaned softly, and the Forger shifted.

"Feels good?"

"Oh, yes," Arthur breathed. "You know how to make me cum."

"I'm still trying to work out new ways."

"You know?" Arthur said, tracing his fingers down Eames' chest. "When we first me, I thought you didn't like me."

"Hardly." Eames caught Arthur's fingers in his hand. "I thought you were drop dead gorgeous. Still do. Most incredible man I've ever met…and he's with me. I have no idea how I got so damn lucky."

Arthur leaned his head on Eames' chest. "Would you ever hurt me?"

"Hurt you?" Eames sounded aghast. "Arthur…Christ, no! Never! You're the most important thing in my life!"

"Its just…" Arthur swallowed. "I know I can be demanding…and difficult…"

"But it doesn't matter." Eames leaned in, and silenced him with a kiss. Arthur wound his hand round the Forger's neck.

"This feels… incredible." Arthur said, smiling sadly. "But I know its not real. I know that this isn't you. And I know the real you would never treat me like this."

Eames looked astounded. "Arthur…you're not serious?"

Arthur nodded. "I am. Perfectly."

* * *

"Listen." Eames exhaled smoke. "I can leave tonight, if you want. Is that OK?"

Cobb nodded. "More than ok. I'll take care of Arthur."

Eames smiled, and Cobb shuddered. The man reminded him of a viper about to strike. "I'm sure you will."

* * *

"But if I'm not real…" Eames sounded mystified, "then what are we doing here?"

Arthur looked at him. "Proving my point." Reaching to his waist, he pulled out his gun.

Cobb checked his watch. "So, any idea where Arthur is?"

Eames shrugged. "Haven't the foggiest."

Cobb ground his teeth. "OK…I'll go and look for him."

* * *

"Arthur!" Eames grabbed at his arm. "Don't do that! Please!"

"Any reason why not?"

"Because I love you," the Forger said, tilting up his chin. "Stay with me. Please."

Arthur took his hand. "I will."


	71. Chapter 71

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

"Careful!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Arthur."

"Don't come up behind me whilst I'm washing the dishes Eames!"

"I'm sorry, ok?"

Arthur turned, cursing under his breath. Eames looked slightly hurt, and the Point Man's irritation subsided. He put down the wet plate he was holding.

"Hey, its ok," he said softly. He reached out to touch Eames' cheek. "I'm sorry…its just you…"

"Wind you up sometimes?"

Arthur nodded. "Sometimes, yes. But, you know, I still do love you Eames."

Eames smiled. "I wanted to talk to you about this job you're undertaking."

"Its perfectly simple," Arthur said, putting his hands back in the sink. "I have to extract the answers from an University Professor."

"Bit unethical, isn't it?"

"Yes." Arthur paused. "Except when said professor is claiming the university unfairly suspended him – despite him being caught selling dope to students – and he's refusing to give them his latest examination paper."

Eames raised his eyebrows. "Forget what I just said."

Arthur grinned. "Don't worry. It's a really simple job. I can do it all by myself."

"You don't want me to come in with you?"

"No, just trust me Eames. I'll be fine."

* * *

Cobb paused. No answer. He clicked off his cell, frustration and worry clouding his face. He turned to Eames.

"Arthur's not answering."

"Oh, shame," Eames replied, snippily. "I guess we'll have to look for him, won't we."

"No." Cobb glared at the Forger. "I'll go and look for him. I don't want you anywhere near him."

Eames shrugged. "Suit yourself."

* * *

Eames kissed Arthur. "Mmmmm."

"You know," Arthur said, "despite three years together, your kissing is still damn good."

The Forger grinned. "I refresh the parts no-one else can reach, eh?"

"You could say that." Arthur smiled and pulled the Forger close again. "Listen, Eames…"

"Yes?"

"I know I'm snappy and short tempered at the moment, but I'm sorry, ok? I know I'm being an asshole at times. I don't expect you to put up with it."

"Arthur. Do you remember that time I got horrifically drunk at Ariadne's 25th birthday and threw up all over your best Armani? I was amazed you still spoke to me after that. You forgave me that, I can forgive you a little bit of snappiness."

"Eames, you are so good."

"No, you're so good. For me. To me. Christ, I love you."

"Ditto."

Eames smiled. Arthur put his hand on his cheek. "I'll be back tonight, ok?"

"Can't wait." Eames said it with such feeling that Arthur had an inkling of what would be in store for him later. He smiled at the thought.

* * *

Cobb drove. He'd briefly toyed with the idea of contacting Ariadne, but decided he didn't want her more involved than she already was. He noticed that his hands were shaking.

He headed for the warehouse.

* * *

"He's this way, Mr Richards."

"Is he under sedation?"

"Yes. We drugged his coffee. He thought he was coming in for a chat with the Dean."

Arthur followed the man down a twisting corridor to a door. As it was opened, he saw a non-descript man slumped in a chair. Arthur nodded.

"This won't take long.

"How long?"

"An hour, in real time."

The man nodded. "Of course. See you then."

* * *

Eames started dumping clothes in his suitcase, humming under his breath. He felt the cheque in his back pocket, and smiled.

Only another few hours, and he'd be on a flight to Mombasa.

* * *

Arthur blinked. He was in the middle of an airport. Turning, he looked past the familiar signs of Starbucks and Popeye's and saw the mark. Clutching his briefcase, he approached him. "Mr Davis?"

The man looked up, startled. Suddenly, he began to run. Dumping the briefcase, Arthur followed him.

* * *

Cobb entered the warehouse, paused, and listened. He began to walk up the stairs.

As he walked into the main room, he heard the slow mechanical hum of the PASIV machine. Sucking in his breath, he saw Arthur. He rubbed his hand over his forehead.

"Oh, Arthur," he muttered, "where have you gone?"

* * *

Arthur sprinted. His leg muscles tensed, but he kept going. The mark was shoving his way through people, and heading for the exit. Gritting his teeth, he stayed on course.

Suddenly, the mark turned, pulling out a gun, and aimed it directly at Arthur.

* * *

Cobb checked the timer. "Five minutes," he whispered. "You've got five minutes, Arthur."

* * *

Arthur blinked. The gun was pointing directly at him.

He closed his eyes as he heard it fire.

* * *

Eames slammed the door behind him, and pulled out his cellphone. Flicking straight to speed dial, he pressed Arthur's number.

* * *

Arthur wasn't aware of the bullet hitting him. All he realised, as his eyes re-opened, is that he was back in the house. Except it had faded, the paint peeling off the walls, the furniture covered with dust. He got up, unsteadily.

"Eames?" he called out, his voice cracked and hoarse. "Eames?"

* * *

Cobb started. Arthur's phone had begun to ring. He grabbed it. "Hello?"

"Cobb?" Eames sounded slightly confused. "What?"

"Eames." Cobb tried to keep his voice steady. "He's at the warehouse."

"You won't let me speak to him?"

"You can't speak to him."

"I thought so."

"No, Eames, stop being so arrogant, and listen to me! You can't speak to him! Arthur has gone under, the timer has run out – and he hasn't woken up."

Silence.

"Did you just hear what I said?" Cobb demanded.

"Yes…" Eames said, sounding distant. "I heard you. He's in limbo."


	72. Chapter 72

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Arthur looked down at his hands.

He blinked, and looked again.

They didn't look like his – they were too frail looking, too thin.

He curled his fingers, and winced as pain reverberated through his joints.

He moved, unsteadily, to the entrance of the house.

"Eames?" His voice was barely a whisper. Unsteadily, he climbed up the entrance steps, his knee nearly giving way. He grabbed onto the porch to steady himself, and with difficulty managed to pull himself into the entrance.

He put his hand out to steady himself on the hallway bookshelf. He winced – everything felt thick with dust.

He continued strumbling through. Everything looked dingy, dirty, filthy. He managed to get into the living room, feeling the ache deep in his bones.

Going further into the room, he pulled out a chair, and settled himself on it. He slumped, exhausted. Looking at the back of his hands, he noticed the blueness of the veins.

Eames. He had to come back soon.

* * *

"He can't have gone into limbo!" Eames was standing in the warehouse, glaring at Cobb. "Its just a ruse – look at him!"

Arthur was lying on the lounger, his face calm and composed. His breathing was steady and rhythmic.

"He was only meant to be under for one hour!" Cobb shouted. "He's still there!"

Eames strode over. "I've had enough of this!" Leaning down, he grabbed Arthur's shoulders, and tried to shake him. "Arthur! Wake up! You pathetic, little-"

Suddenly, a punch sent Eames reeling. He relinquished his grip on Arthur, who slumped back on the lounger. Cobb grabbed Eames and pushed himself up against the wall.

"Don't you do that!" Cobb snarled. "Don't you dare! Haven't you hurt him enough?"

* * *

Arthur felt the walls shake. He fell off his chair, and gasped as he collapsed on the floor.

* * *

"Maybe I did hurt him," Eames said, coldly, "but he chose to go under, Cobb!"

"Yeah, because it was so much better than the reality you gave him!"

Eames looked at the Extractor. "Well, what do you suggest?"

Cobb was pacing the floor. "In limbo, he'll age, rapidly. He'll be an old man. Frail, ill…" he glared at Eames. "Is that what you want?"

Eames swallowed. "No."

"Good." Cobb ran a hand through his hair. "Which means we're going to go under, and find him."

Eames swallowed. "OK. But after this…"

"You go to Mombasa," Cobb nodded. "Myself, Ari, and Miles will take care of Arthur."

* * *

Arthur tried to move, but felt a spasm of pain in his arm. He tried to lift himself up, and collapsed back on the floor.

"Eames…"

* * *

Cobb blinked. He sat up, looking at the long, tangled grass. "Eames?"

"Yeah, over here."

"So, we're here."

"Yeah." Eames looked unimpressed. "What do you think his last dream was?"

Cobb blinked. "Domestic bliss. With you."


	73. Chapter 73

**Diclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Eames blinked, and pushed a clump of leaves out of his face. "Hello?" He swallowed; his voice sounded cracked and hoarse. "Hello?"

No answer. No response. He stood up, awkwardly, and started to walk. The path was crowded with overgrown grass, and he nearly tripped. Cursing, he straightened up, and began to approach a house.

Swallowing, he began to walk towards it.

* * *

Cobb breathed, and looked around. He was sitting in the bedroom of a house. It was tastefully and expensively decorated, he noted, in muted colours. He suddenly heard a muffled sob.

Getting up, he walked in the direction of it, looking into the rooms on either side of the corridor. He heard the sob again, and looking in another room, saw the cause.

Arthur. Standing in front of a bathroom mirror, examining the bruising on his chest. He was poking at one, gently, tears rolling down his cheeks.

"It doesn't matter how much you cry," another voice said.

Cobb turned. To his shock, another Arthur, this one fully dressed, walked past him and into the bathroom. He gently hooked his arms around the sobbing figure.

"He'll always hurt us," the voice whispered. "He always does this. You know that."

Arthur nodded, and pulled his shirt around himself, protectively. The other Arthur patted his shoulder. "We can get through it," he whispered.

Cobb, feeling embarrassed, turned and walked down the stairs.

* * *

Eames walked up the steps. He put his finger on the doorbell, and pressed it. No response. Puzzled, he tried to push against the door. Locked.

He banged on it. "Hello?"

* * *

Cobb entered the downstairs hall, and spotted the kitchen. He heard humming. He decided to find out who it was, already dreading what he'd find.

Arthur was filling a kettle with water, humming to himself. Cobb watched as he placed it on the stove. He turned. "Eames?"

When he saw Cobb, his face fell slightly. "Oh, hi Dom."

"Arthur," Cobb responded, walking forward. "Arthur, are you ok?"

The Point Man nodded, his eyes fixing on the kettle. "Just waiting for Eames." His lips curved into a smile.

"Arthur," Cobb said, trying to think rapidly of something to say, "you do know that Eames hurts you, don't you?"

Arthur looked at him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Well, he hits you, and-"

Arthur's face darkened. "Really?"

"Yes, really." Cobb took a deep breath. "He nearly hospitalised you once; you tried to commit suicide!"

Arthur shrugged. "Oh…that was just an argument."

"You're still defending him?" Cobb couldn't believe it.

Arthur looked puzzled. "Nothing to defend."

* * *

Eames was about to give up. There was no way he could get in. Sighing, he turned, and walked down the steps.

Suddenly, he heard a voice. "I don't know why he does it."

"No, I don't, either."

"He punched me…in my abdomen."

"He tried to burn me with his cigarette."

"I thought he loved me."

"He told me that as well."

"He lied to us."

"He did."

Eames couldn't bear it. The voices were coming from behind a tree. He pushed aside the branches – and gasped in shock.

Two Arthurs were standing, facing each other.

"What?" Eames commented, shocked. "What the-"

"We need to go," one "Arthur" told the other.

The other nodded. "Before he comes and hits us again."

The almost childlike intonation made Eames shudder. He was transfixed as he watched them turn, and walk away down the path.


	74. Chapter 74

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Swallowing, Eames made his way back into the house. "Arthur? Arthur, are you there…?"

No response. He heard a crash in the kitchen. Cursing himself for his own nervousness, he continued to walk inside.

"Stupid little…where the fuck are you?"

The sheer force of the words made Eames stop. Spotting another doorway, he walked to it.

A man was inside. Who was systematically destroying everything inside that was either china, or glass. He picked up an ornament, and threw it at the wall, watching it as it shattered on impact.

"Arthur!" The voice was furious. Eames slipped back into the shadows. "Come in here!"

Suddenly, Arthur appeared. Eames blinked, unwilling to wonder whether if it was Arthur, or one of his projections.

"Yes, Eames?" His voice was oddly calm.

"Look what you made me do!" "Eames" gestured furiously at the shattered glass.

"How did I…?" Arthur looked astonished. "I wasn't even here!"

"Oh, so now you're answering me back, are you? Christ, I'm sick of you! Sick of you and your pretty boy face, sick of you and your obsessions, sick of you and your constant need to have control!"

"Then why do you stay with me?"

"Because I can't be bothered to find anybody else, that's why!"

Arthur blinked. "You really hate me?"

"Eames" glared at him. "You have no idea."

The Forger was shocked, at both the sheer venom in the projection's voice, and in Arthur's responses. He shivered. Turning, he hurried back through the house.

Cobb looked at Arthur. "You're saying Eames treats you well?"

"Absolutely," Arthur confirmed, finishing washing the plate. "He spoils me utterly…" Turning, he smiled as the Forger walked in.

"Cobb!" The look of relief on Eames' face was palpable. "This is-"

"Eames, where have you been?" Arthur snapped. "You know I asked you to do the dishes, and you didn't!"

Eames blinked. "Did you?"

"Oh, For God's sake!" Arthur's irritation was spreading across his face. "You're useless at times, you know that?"

Eames grabbed the back of a chair. "What's going on? What is this?"

"It's the emotional maelstrom," Cobb said. "Here in limbo, Arthur's ultimate dream was domestic bliss. With you. What you're seeing are the projections. This is Arthur's projection of how he sees himself, if he behaved like you."

"I need to get out of here," Eames murmured. Turning, he began to run. Cobb followed him.

"Eames!" He shouted. "Its not too late. We can still find the real Arthur. You could still try and find a future together."

Eames turned, an expression of hurt on his face. Cobb swallowed.

"What I've seen…" he said, brokenly. "I did it. I did it to him. And you know why I did, Cobb? Because I could. Because he let me. Because he loved me so much, he let me get away with it."

"Did you give him a choice?" Cobb's voice was hard. "You know that Arthur would never have gone to his family. You also know that he needed to feel wanted, to feel loved."

Eames shook his head. "I did. And I still did it."

"Is this repentance, Eames? Or just an attempt to get out of limbo by trying to beg for Arthur's forgiveness?"

"Is there anything to beg for?"

"Eames!" Arthur suddenly came running up, and grabbed him. "Oh, I missed you!"

"Get away from me," the Forger said, hoarsely. "Get away from me. You're not real!"

"What do you mean, I'm not real?" Arthur said, coolly. "I'm standing in front of you!"

"But, you're not-" Eames swallowed. "There's a group of you. A group of you saying how much I hurt you."

He turned.

"Eames, remember!" Cobb shouted. "Its not real. It's a –"

"I can't bear this!" The Forger practically screamed. "I can't!" He ran back into the house.

"Eames!" Cobb shouted. He followed him, and noticed where he was heading. His heart in his throat, the Extractor followed.

Eames found the stairs to the attic. Swallowing, he began to climb them. As he got to the top, he noticed someone else was there.

Arthur.

"How many are there?" Eames asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"More than you think," Arthur said, coldly. Eames noticed how sharply this Arthur was dressed, in a sleek black suit. Suddenly, the Forger shivered.

"That suit…"

"Yes. I wore it on our first date." Arthur raised his eyebrows. "You plied me with alcohol, and took me home. You claimed you only tucked me in."

"Arthur," Eames said, trying to steady his breathing, "I swear nothing happened."

"Really?"

"Yes," Eames said. "I swear."

"You swore you'd never hit me. What did you do to me? Oh, yeah – you slapped me, you punched me, you burned me with your cigarette, you took me by the throat and threatened to kill me. I used to just want to curl up in your arms, be made to feel safe. And in your arms, I would never feel safe."

Eames felt his jaw begin to quiver. "Arthur, please-"

"I don't please. Its too amusing. What else did you do? Oh yeah. You raped me. You raped me, and then left me to commit suicide. And I thought it was because you cared."

"Arthur-"

"Shut up. I'm talking now," Arthur said, calmly. Suddenly, Eames noticed a flash of metal in the Point Man's hand. He shivered.

"Arthur, please, God, no-"

"You die here, you may never wake up. You'll be trapped in your own mind for eternity. Like the way I was trapped in hell with you."

"Art-"

A gunshot echoed through the house. Cobb clutched onto the banister, terrified of what he'd find.


	75. Chapter 75

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

"Eames?" Cobb clung to the banister, fearful of what he'd find. Swallowing, he began to walk up the stairs. He could hear ragged, distorted breathing.

"Dom?" Upon hearing Eames' voice, Cobb ran up the stairs. As he came to the top, his jaw dropped.

The Forger was clutching at Arthur's hands, who was lying on his back, his head pillowed by blood. Cobb took a deep breath, then shivered. Half of the Point Man's head was blown away. Eames was choking and whimpering, noises which tore at the Extractor's heart. He was running his hands down Arthur's torso.

"He's killed himself," Eames whimpered, the words barely audible. "He's killed himself. I've driven him to this, Dom. I've driven him to it!"

Cobb swallowed, and felt his heart swell with pity and anger. "Come on," he said gently, "you can't do anything for him now."

Eames was clutching at Arthur as though he were drowning. "Leave me here. Please."

"I can't do that." Cobb's voice was gentle, but firm. "I've just lost Arthur. I can't lose you as well."

Eames was burying his face in Arthur's neck. He was spreading his hands in the blood, an enormous rorscach blot that was rapidly spreading on the floor. He put his cheek in it, and shuddered as he felt its warmth.

"Eames," Cobb said, his voice firmer. "Please. We have to go. Now."

"Why didn't you stop me?" Eames mumbled, his words muffled by the thick, viscous liquid.

Cobb swallowed. "Excuse me?"

"Why didn't you stop me hurting him?" Eames looked at Cobb, his eyes wild, and slightly desperate. "You knew what was happening! You knew what I did! Why didn't you stop me?"

Cobb's anger exploded. He grabbed the Forger and shoved him up against the wall, mindful of the body lying at their feet.

"What the hell are you saying?" He snarled in Eames' face. "I'm responsible for how you were hurting him? Beating him to a pulp? Destroying him? I tried to get him to leave you! I begged him to! But each time, you'd come after him, and you'd pull him back. You're like a venomous spider, Eames. You went after him, targeted him. You made him dependent on you. I saw as my Point Man turned into your submissive little slave. I'm amazed he didn't bleed with every step he took!"

Cobb felt something trickle round his feet. He pulled out his gun, and pointed it in Eames' face.

"I should shoot you, right now."

Eames looked at him. "Go ahead."

"If I kill you, you'll stay in limbo forever. You'll be trapped in your own mind." Cobb looked at him. "That's the easy way out for you. Far better that you come back into reality. That you live with what you did. That you take care of Arthur. Who will be in limbo, and possibly damaged, forever. It'll be like having a child with you Eames. You'll have to protect him, take care of him."

Eames' eyes widened. "No…please…"

"Congratulations," Cobb said, his voice filled with bitterness. "You succeeded in killing him. He's gone."

* * *

Downstairs, in the other parlour, Arthur tried to get up. His joints ached, and as he looked, his hands were increasingly twisted.

"I've been down here so long…" he whispered. "I'm becoming an old man." A noise at the door surprised him, and he looked up.

Two Arthurs were standing in the doorway. They both came over. "Oh, let us help you!"

Arthur swallowed, looking at the limbo projections. "Thank you." They helped him up and into a chair. He sat down, breathing heavily. Looking into his own projections' faces was a shock. Their faces were creased sympathetically, concern in their eyes.

"Did he do this to you?" One asked. "Did he hurt you?"

Arthur swallowed. "Yes."

"He's hateful." Another said.

"He's just confused." Arthur said, his voice coming out in a rasp.

"He's a bully," said another. To Arthur, their voices sounded as innocent and monotonous as children. He shivered.

"You're cold," said one. "We'll find some help." They walked out, leaving the ageing, and real Arthur, shivering in his chair.

* * *

Eames looked at Cobb. "I'm not staying here to listen to this!" Turning, he ran down the stairs, only to collide with the two Arthurs, who were standing in the hallway, their eyes wide.

"No," Eames whimpered, "please God no, not more of you!"

The Arthurs looked at him. "Whats wrong?" one of them asked. "Are you scared?"

Eames swallowed. "Yes," he whispered. "I've killed Arthur. None of you should exist."

The projection looked at him, his dark eyes wide. The beseeching look on his face made Eames' lip tremble. "Arthur's alive," he said sadly. "He's in here."

Eames clutched at the projection. "What? You're not serious?"

The projection nodded. "Come with me."

Eames followed, swallowing. As he went into the other room, he stopped.

Arthur was slumped in the chair. As Eames looked at him, he realised he'd aged about fifty years. He went over, and took his hand.

"Arthur?" he whispered. "Arthur, darling, can you hear me?"

Arthur opened his lips, but no sound emerged.


	76. Chapter 76

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

"Arthur!" The Forger panicked upon seeing the frail, ageing man in the chair before him. "Arthur, please!"

"Leave him."

Eames turned. Another Arthur was standing, looking at him. His eyes were full of pain, and Eames felt a slight spasm of fury.

"Go away," Eames said hoarsely. "You're not real. You don't exist."

The projection's face twitched. One eyebrow went up. "I do exist. I'm real."

"You're a projection," Eames said, stubbornly. "You're in my head. You're in Arthur's head. The real Arthur is here. Right in front of me."

"But the real Arthur doesn't exist anymore," another voice said, and Eames suddenly felt himself being elbowed out of the way. Stunned, he watched as the newcomer crouched down in front of Arthur and began to gently stroke his face. "You saw to that."

Eames felt his anger start to boil. "Look, don't tell me what I-"

He sucked in his breath, sharply.

Turning to face him was himself.

* * *

Cobb walked into the garden, feeling agitated. He checked his watch – the longer they stayed in limbo, the more dangerous. Suddenly, he head a cough, and turned his head.

Arthur was looking at him. But this was a healthier, happier looking Arthur. He smiled at Cobb. "Hey, Dom."

"Art," Cobb said, feeling that this limbo was the worst horror show he'd ever entered. "How are you?"

"I'm good," he said breezily, and reached for a rose that was entwining itself around the painted trellis. "I'm happy here."

"With Eames?" Cobb asked, cautiously. Arthur blinked, surprised.

"Of course with Eames. He treats me like a prince." Arthur smiled, his eyes creasing. "I don't know what I've done to deserve him. I can be difficult to live with at times, but he's amazingly tolerant. And so kind to me as well!"

Cobb swallowed. "Arthur, he's-" He looked at the younger man. He looked happy. Almost radiant. Cobb felt his heart expand painfully in his chest.

"Arthur, are you happy here?"

The Point Man nodded. "Yes."

The Extractor looked at him. "Then I'll leave you to your life."

* * *

Eames turned and faced himself. "Just…go away." His voice sounded feeble to his ears, and he flushed angrily.

"No," the projection responded. He stroked Arthur's face. "You're responsible for this. You know it. You're the one who hurt him."

"Only because I-"

"Because you what?" Eames shuddered slightly as he saw himself staring at him. "Because he bored you? Because he irritated you? Because you couldn't tolerate his-"

"Stop it!" Eames shouted. "Just stop it! I know what I did was wrong, all right? I don't need it thrown in my face all the time! If could turn time back, I would. But I can't!"

"But you can," the projection said. "Just leave him here. He'll be happier here. We'll take care of him."

"No," Eames said, his anger sparking. "I won't leave Arthur here. He's coming with me."

"Does he want to?" The projection's voice was hard. "After everything you've done?"

Eames looked at the increasingly frail Arthur.

"If he comes with me, I'll give him everything he ever wanted from me, and more."

The projection smirked. "And that would be what?"

Eames leaned down and cupped Arthur's face in his chin.

"Love."


	77. Chapter 77

"Arthur? Arthur, darling, can you hear me?"

The Point Man blinked, shifting. "Hmmm…"

"Arthur, if you can hear me, show me. Please."

Arthur's eyes began to flutter. The Forger's heart began to swell with relief. He reached out, and began to stroke his face. "Arthur?"

The Point Man's eyes opened fully, and found Eames. They began to widen "You-"

"Ssshhh! Its ok, darling!" Eames reached out and grabbed his hand, which was shaking. "Its ok! I promise that from now on, everything will be all right!"

He clutched Arthur's hand in the dusty, ageing room. Squeezing his fingers, he'd whispered to him. "Please come back with me, Arthur. Come back."

He saw the Point Man's eyes flicker. He'd felt the gentle pressure of his fingers. Eames had felt his heart begin to soar. He'd whispered to him.

"I'll never hurt you again, Arthur. Never. You're too precious to me. I've nearly lost you, and-"

The Point Man's mouth had opened again. "I hat-"

* * *

Suddenly, The Forger's eyes had opened. Blinking, he'd turned ,and seen Arthur, still attached to the IV. Yanking his own out of his arm roughly, he'd pushed himself off the bed and hurried to his side.

"Arthur," he whispered, clutching at his hand. "Arthur, I'm out of limbo. You should be. Are you there? Can you hear me?"

Arthur moved slightly. "Hmmmm…."

Eames swallowed. This was what had happened in the furthest reaches of the dreamspace. He clutched at Arthur's hand, tightly. "Arthur, please. I'm here. Please wake up. Please."

Cobb was shifting. "Eames?"

Arthur's eyes began to open. A dreamy smile was on his lips. Eames swallowed, feeling his confidence beginning to return. "Arthur…"

The Point Man's eyes opened, and began to focus. As he looked at Eames, the Forger's lips began to curve into a smile. He reached out a hand to touch Arthur's face.

"Oh, Arthur, darling…"

The younger man's eyes widened with shock and fear. "Get away…" he whispered, hoarsely. Then he batted at the Forger's hand, causing nail marks to appear as raised welts on Eames' palm. "Get away…"

"Arthur," Eames said, licking his lip and struggling to control his emotions. "Arthur calm down, its me, Eames-"

"You hurt me," Arthur said, his eyes growing larger in a bone white face. "You hurt me!"

Eames blinked. Arthur's voice was almost monotonous – like the voices of the projections he'd encounterd in limbo. He tried to grab at his hand. "Arthur, calm down, I'm not going to-OWW!"

Cobb, who was stirring, blinked and tried to sit up. Eames was nursing a large scratch on his face. The Point Man was gripping the edges of his lounger, looking terrified.

"Eames," Cobb spoke, his voice gentle. "Calm down. Get back."

The Forger turned to him, an agonised expression on his face. "Stay calm? Dom, he's lost his mind, and I-"

"He hasn't." Cobb tried to speak calmly, but his heart was racing. "He's just come out of limbo, Eames, give him a chance." He moved forward, and took Arthur's hands. The Point man was struggling and Cobb grabbed his wrists, more forcefully than he intended.

"Arthur." He tried to get him to focus on his face. "Arthur, look at me please. Look at me."

The Point Man's brown orbs began to lock with the Extractor's blue ones. He was shaking. "Don't let him-" it came out as a whine from the back of his throat.

Cobb swallowed, then put his hand out and stroked back Arthur's hair, as though he were a child. "I promise, Arthur," he said, softly.

"Keep him away from me-"

Eames blinked. Suddenly, a rush of shock fuelled rage overcame the Forger, and moving forward, he virtually pushed Cobb out of the way, grabbing at Arthur.

"What the hell are you playing at? This is all an act! There's nothing wrong with you!" Desperation and fear where in the Forger's voice, as he grabbed at Arthur's shirt. "Stop it, you little shit! Stop it before I-"

Cobb grabbed the back of Eames, and pulled him out of the way.

"What the hell are you doing?" Cobb hissed. "This isn't an act! His mind has been destroyed! He was down there far longer than we were! That sedative put him in a dream that would have lasted ten years, which means limbo would have lasted-"

"A hundred years," Eames said, his face white. "He's been down there a hundred years…oh Jesus Christ, Arthur-"

He went to the Point Man, who upon seeing him, burst into sobs. Cobb went to him, and pulled him close.

"It'll be ok, Arthur," he whispered, holding him close. "It'll be all right."

"Keep him away!" Arthur sobbed into Cobb's shoulder.

"Arthur. I will. I promise." Cobb turned to the Forger, whose face registered shock.


	78. Chapter 78

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

"OK, we're going to move him. Keep him steady!"

Cobb swallowed, remembering how he'd watched the nurses try and contain the struggling Arthur. He'd had to call an ambulance, after he'd leapt at Eames and tried to shove him against the wall. He'd blinked, not wanting to believe the amount of strength contained in the frail frame of the Point Man, but he knew he had to stop him.

The ambulance had arrived. He'd watched as the paramedics had pulled Arthur down, and strapped him. For his own protection, Cobb knew. Eames had been lying crumpled against the wall, his face grey and white in patches. He'd rubbed his forehead, then turned away.

Cobb shifted on the hard orange seat, trying to make his anger subside. Eames had refused to go to the hospital, Cobb had travelled alone. And as Cobb sat there, he realised that this was making him angrier.

"Mr Cobb?"

He looked up. A young doctor was standing in front of him, smiling sympathetically.

"How is he?"

"He's stable," the doctor replied, almost guardedly, "but I should warn you. Mr Richards is very…disconnected from the world."

"What do you mean?" Cobb asked, getting up.

"I mean he's not communicating coherently," the doctor replied. "He was talking about a house, with a man, and how the man treated him really well and he didn't want to leave." He looked at Cobb. "Does that make sense?"

The Extractor swallowed. "Yes," he said softly. "It does. Can I see him?"

The doctor nodded. "Of course, come this way. I must warn you, though, Mr Richards is restrained. We're concerned for his safety."

Taking a deep breath, Cobb followed the young medic. As they reached the double locked doors branded "PSYCHIATRIC", his heart skipped a beat. The medic buzzed, allowing them both to enter.

"OK, he's down here." The medic nodded at Cobb as he opened a door.

Cobb walked in, and his jaw dropped slightly.

Arthur was lying on the bed, restrained at both the wrists and ankles. He was staring at the ceiling, his eyes looking dull. Strands of dark hair fell across his forehead. He swallowed.

Cobb leaned over him, noting the waxy pallor of his skin. He spoke gently. "Hey, Arthur."

"Where is he?" Arthur spoke. Cobb blinked.

"He…"

"He was with me. At the house. He left."

Cobb swallowed. "Arthur, it wasn't real, you know-" He stopped. Another man was standing by the bed, his face concerned. He looked at Cobb.

"Mr Cobb," he said, "May I speak to you?"

The Extractor nodded. "Of course."

"Not here." The doctor looked at Arthur. "Its not good news."

* * *

Eames sat slumped in a chair, a glass of scotch balanced next to him. He took a sip, realising that his hand was shaking.

"Arthur," he muttered, "Arthur, Arthur, Arthur…"

He touched his face – his cheek felt wet. Angrily brushing away the tear, he took another sip of scotch.

His cellphone shrilled. Blinking, he fished it out of his pocket, and clicked it open. "Hello? Oh, Dom."

His face froze.

"No, I don't believe that, he's faking it, he must be! Irreparably damaged? He can't be, Dom, Oh Christ!"

Putting the phone down, Eames felt his body shudder with sobs.


	79. Chapter 79

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Cobb looked at the figure in the bed. Arthur was still gazing at the ceiling. A long trail of drool was running from his lip. Unable to watch it, the Extractor got up, picked up a tissue, and gently wiped Arthur's mouth.

"There you go," he said gently.

No response.

"Arthur", Cobb said gently. "Arthur…can you hear me?"

Large dark eyes blinked. Cobb swallowed.

"Dom?"

Cobb turned. Ariadne was standing behind him, biting her lip. She stood motionless, taking in the inert figure on the bed.

"Hey," he said, gently, and held out his hand. She took it, andas he drew her into a tight embrace, she burst into shuddering sobs.

"Hey, hey," Cobb said, stroking her back. "Its ok, sweetheart. Its ok. He'll get over this. We all will."

She looked at him. "What about Eames?"

Cobb's eyes hardened. "What about him?"

"Have you seen him? Its been a week…"

"After what he's done," the Extractor said slowly, coldly, "I don't care if he's dead."

* * *

"_You two faced lying little slag!"_

"_What, just because I wrote to an old college friend?"_

"_You want to do more than that!"_

"_Eames, just trust me, for God's-"_

The Forger's eyes flew open, and he shuddered. He sat up, wrestling with the bed clothes. As his heart rate subsided, he took a deep breath. Slowly, he looked round at his surroundings.

Arthur. Arthur was everywhere in the room. His suits, still hanging neatly in the closet. His shoes, stacked in a line near the wall. His teddy bear, his favourite childhood toy, he'd confessed to the Forger, was sitting on the windowsill. Its innocent gaze seemed to stare at Eames, reproachfully.

Eames looked at the bear, revulsion stirring within him. Arthur had never told the others about it, but he'd confessed in a moment of weakness to Eames. He'd been given it by his godmother, and he'd christened it Softy.

"Why Softy?" Eames has asked, smiling.

"Because its soft," Arthur responded, without humour.

Eames struggled out of bed, and walked over to the bear. He picked it up, its glass eyes looking straight at him. Holding it to his face, he inhaled it.

It reminded him of Arthur. It was scented with his cologne, and had a slightly salty smell – tears. Eames realised with a sense of dull shock that he would have come up here, and used it to soak up his tears.

"What did he tell you, little bear?" Eames murmured, turning it in his hands. "What did he say?"

Eames swallowed. He had an uncomfortable image of the Point Man, so calm on the surface, coming upstairs and cuddling the bear. Looking for comfort. Wanting comfort.

Suddenly, a fit of rage coursed through Eames. Holding the bear, he threw it across the room, where it bounced off the wall and fell to the floor. The Forger then hurried over, and picked it up. Crouching down against the wall, he cradled it in his arms, letting his own tears soak into the soft fur.

"I'm sorry, Arthur," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

The bear lay, hugged against Eames' chest. Motionless. Its fur was becoming damp and dishevelled, and Eames rubbed at his eyes. He swallowed. Throwing the bear…throwing Arthur. Throwing a defenceless thing that wouldn't hit him back.

Just like Arthur.

Suddenly the doorbell rang. Eames groaned and pulled the bear close to his chest. Closing his eyes, he tried to ignore them.

It rang again.

Eames pretended not to hear. He hugged the bear more tightly.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps. He blinked.

"Arthur?"

His tone was joyous, almost hopeful.

"Arthur?"

The top of the stairs creaked, and the door started to open. Eames swallowed, and got up.

"Oh ,Arthur, I knew you'd-"

He froze.

Staring at him was the furious figure of Dom Cobb.


	80. Chapter 80

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

"Dom," Eames said hoarsely, still holding the bear to his chest. "Please, I can explain-"

Cobb cocked the gun, and pointed it at his head. "No more excuses, Eames. I'm sick of it. And I'm sick of you."

Eames swallowed. "Dom, please. Please don't kill me."

"Kill you?" Cobb laughed harshly. "I don't want to kill you, Eames. I just want to make you suffer. In the same you made Arthur suffer."

"So what are you going to do?" Eames asked, his voice soft. "Shoot me in the face? The head?"

"How about, I make you explain." Cobb said, the gun holding steady. "Explain to me what it is about Arthur you hate so much, that you have to try and destroy him."

Eames swallowed. "I don't hate Arthur…" his voice trailed off.

"Then?"

"I love Arthur." His voice burned with intensity. "I love Arthur, Dom. I really do. Its just-" he blinked.

"Just what?"

"He makes me feel…inferior. Makes me feel as though I'm always wrong. Its very hard being with someone who makes you feel bad all the time."

Cobb swallowed. "Do you expect me to believe this?"

"Yes, Dom. I do."

* * *

"Hey Arthur, its time for your meds."

Arthur was lying staring at the ceiling. The young female nurse looked at him, and put her fingers under his chin.

"Hey, sweetie. Its time for your meds. You know this."

Arthur smiled at her. It was a sweet, innocent smile. She leaned forward.

"Arthur, its time for your – EEEEAAAARRRGGGHHHHHH!"

* * *

"Arthur is so beautiful," Eames said, closing his eyes. "He has skin that's soft, he has the face of an angel-"

"And a body you like to beat."

"Yes," Eames admitted. "I do."

* * *

"I have no idea what happened-"

"Where's the nurse?"

"We had to rush her into intensive. You should see what he did to her face – there was a possibility she could contract cellulitis in the wound-"

"Go and sedate him. Put him in psychiatric. He needs to be confined for his and everyone else's safety."

* * *

Cobb's phone started to shrill. Puzzled, he pulled it out of his pocket. "Hello? Yes, this is. What?"

Eames looked over. "What is it?"

Cobb looked at him, his lips thinning. "Go and get dressed. Arthur's in serious trouble."


	81. Chapter 81

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you! **

Eames swallowed as he waited in the draughty waiting room, the mud coloured cup of coffee burning his fingers. Swearing under his breath, he put the flimsy plastic cup on the small linoleum covered table. He sat down, and stretched his legs.

Cobb had gone straight to the Psychiatric ward, which was effectively barricaded from the rest of the hospital. Eames had taken one look at the partially glass doors, locked and buzzer operated, and shuddered. Mumbling an excuse, he'd turned and walked away, feeling the Extractor's eyes boring into his back. He rubbed his forehead, his mind filled with conflicting thoughts.

"Mr Eames?" His head jerked up. A young male nurse was standing in the doorway.

"Um, yes?" he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

"Mr Richards is comfortable. Mr Cobb is with him, but do you want to...?"

"No," Eames said, more sharply than he'd intended. "No, I'm sorry, I don't."

The nurse looked taken aback, then nodded. "OK, I'll let Mr Cobb know."

He turned and left. Eames took another sip of the muddy liquid, his mind a blank.

* * *

Cobb looked at Arthur. The Point Man was now in an isolated room, strapped across the chest and lower legs, restrained at the wrists and ankles. He took a deep breath. Arthur was gazing at the ceiling, his eyes completely blank.

Cobb shuddered. The doctor had been emotionless in describing what Arthur had done.

"The nurse was giving him his medication," he'd told Cobb, flatly. "She was leaning down to administer the injection, and Arthur began to claw at her face. She managed to slap him down before he got to her eyes."

The Extractor had swallowed, horrified. "I'm so sorry, Doctor. Is she...?"

"She'll be allright, Mr Cobb, but please remember this is first grade assault. She was just doing her job, and he attacked her." His grey eyes bored into Cobb's blue ones. "If Arthur ever recovers - he could stand trial."

Cobb rubbed his forehead. "You really got yourself in deep," he muttered. "Eames, now this. And I guess this is Eames' fault, as he drove you to madness."

He blinked. "Drove you to-" He swallowed, and reached for the water glass perched on the side next to the bed.

"Madness," he mumbled, "an idea. The idea that Eames loves you. If I extracted that, Art, would you recover? Would you forget Eames? Would you become a happy individual, even if you were damaged?"

He looked at the floor. An idea was forming. He took another sip of water and reached for his cellphone.

* * *

Eames drained the last of his coffee, noticing the bitter aftertaste. He flung the flimsy cup at the bin. Getting up, he checked his watch. Visiting time was nearly over.

Standing up, he walked purposefully to the desk next to the psychiatric ward entrance. Swallowing, he smiled at the nurse.

"I'm here to see Arthur Richards?"

She looked at him. "Oh yes. He's a poor young man."

Eames nodded. "He is."

She pressed a button under the desk. "In you go."

Eames walked in, looking for the patient name tags. Outside room 21, he found him. The Forger walked in, noting that not only had Cobb left, he'd pulled the covers up over him as well. The Point Man's eyes were closed. Eames leaned over, inhaling his scent.

Arthur no longer smelt like Arthur. Eames associated the Point Man with expensive cologne, and well cut fabric. Now he smelt faintly of rancid sweat, and unwashed sheets. His hair, always fiercely gelled back, was loose, and unwashed. His features had always been finely carved, but these had transformed into a gaunt visage, with his eyes darkly shadowed.

"Arthur, can you hear me?"

No response. Eames hesitantly slipped his hand into Arthur's. The long fingers were chilled and limp.

Eames quickly disentangled his hand.

"Arthur. I don't know where you are. So I'm going to do the kindest thing for you now."

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a gun. Lifting it up, he placed it at Arthur's temple.

"Sweet dreams," he whispered.


	82. Chapter 82

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you! **

Cobb approached the door, and gestured to Ariadne. "Hold on."

She nodded. "What is it?" she whispered.

"I can hear someone." Cobb pressed his ear to the door.

* * *

"I don't want to do this," Eames said, slowly, his hand beginning to shake, "but its the only way out. I'm not going to jail for you, Arthur. It's not worth my time."

He pressed the gun to the Point Man's temple, pushing it into the flesh. He swallowed.

"Go-"

Suddenly, the door flew open, and Cobb walked in. Eames turned, startled, the gun still firmly gripped in his hand. "Dom! What-"

"Leave him alone," Cobb said, calmly. "Its over."

"Yes," Eames said coolly, narrowing his eyes. "It is." He turned back to Arthur, who was giving the impression of sleep. His face looked calm, and composed. Eames turned, his features softening.

"He's so adorable, isn't he?" Eames purred, brushing the top of Arthur's head. "So willing..."

Cobb fixed him with a steely gaze. "Please. Just go."

Eames looked at Cobb. "If I go, he's your responsiblity, Dom. You can look after him for the rest of his life. He's just a mindless, drooling idiot."

Cobb choked with anger. "Go."

Eames shrugged. "If you like." His eyes narrowed. He put the gun in his pocket. "Bye."

He turned, and left. Cobb watched him go, stunned at how easily he'd responded to the request. He watched the door swing behind him.

"Cobb!" He blinked. Ariadne was looking at him, her expression anxious. "We have to do this!"

Cobb nodded, opening the PASIV, and pulling out the IVs. "Come on, lets get him hooked up."

Ariadne pushed one, gently, into Arthur's arm. Swallowing, she looked at Dom. "He's ready."

The Extractor tapped his own IV. "OK. Here's the deal. Half an hour. And then I'm coming in with you."

Cobb smiled. "Of course."

* * *

He blinked. Sitting up, he realised he was in a large garden. As he turned, he realised he could hear a fountain, and soft, laughing voices. He swallowed, and began to walk. Suddenly, he heard a familiar voice, light and full of laughter.

"He bought me this last week. Its beautiful, isn't it?"

Arthur was sitting at the centre of a group of admiring young women, and a couple of men. He was showing them a watch. Expensive, designer. Cobb knelt in the foilage, and listened.

"Eames got you that?" One young woman said, admiringly. "He spoils you, Arthur!"

"Oh, completely," Arthur agreed, nodding. "But I'm a good boy for him, trust me!"

Laughter rippled across the group. Cobb got up, and began to walk forward. Arthur turned to him, his face freezing.

"Do I know you?" he asked politely.

Cobb exhaled. He'd had a sneaking suspicion that Arthur had blocked out the team, but it was still a shock.

"Yes, you do." Cobb spoke calmly, and sat next to Arthur.

"OK," Arthur smiled again. "I know you. What can I do for you?"

"I've come to get something." Cobb smiled back. "From you."

Arthur smirked. "As long as its not my new watch!"

"Arthur. Why did he give you that?"

"Oh, he gives me everything I want," Arthur said, reaching for his glass of wine. "An expensive watch, new clothes, everything. Everything I ask for."

"And what do you give him?"

"I let him do whatever he wants to me." Arthur turned to Cobb, smiling, and began to unbutton his shirt. Pulling part of it over his shoulder, he showed a large bruise.

"He hurts you." Cobb swallowed.

Arthur nodded. "All the time. He hits me, he threatened to kill me...I cry all the time."

"And you stay with him."

"I don't know what else to do."

Cobb looked at him. _He's in limbo still. _

"Arthur," he said, kindly, "is there a safe anywhere inside? I want to put my cheque book and cards in there for the weekend."

Arthur looked surprised, then nodded. "Oh, yes. I can show you. Come on."

He got up, and began to walk. To his shock, Cobb saw Arthur was walking with a slight limp. "Arthur, what..."

Arthur swallowed, and turned. "Eames. He-"

"OK," Cobb broke in, gently. "Can you show me the safe?"

"Its through that corridor."

Cobb entered the building, and walked to the end of a corridor. Suddenly, in the middle of the wall, was the safe.

"Combination," he muttered. "Let's try your birthday, Arthur."

Carefully, he turned the dial, and the safe opened. Inside, was an envelope. Reaching in, the Extractor pulled it out, and opened it.

"Love letters," he mumbled. "Love letters."

He tucked them back inside the envelope, and began to walk outside. Arthur was sitting outside, holding an iPhone. He looked up as Cobb approached.

"Did you get what you needed?"

Cobb smiled at him, a genuine smile. "Yes, Arthur. I did."


	83. Chapter 83

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you! **

Ariadne shivered. She looked at the sleeping bodies of Cobb and Arthur. Unable to relax, she began to walk the room.

* * *

"It was nice to meet you," Arthur said, smiling blandly. "Do come again..." his voice trailed off. Cobb followed his gaze. Eames was approaching. Thought the older man appeared to be smiling and relaxed, Cobb noticed how the younger man shivered slightly.

"Arthur!" Eames' appeared warm, and welcoming, enfolding him in his arms. "Arthur! Who is this?" he asked, turning to Cobb.

Cobb was slightly shocked that Eames didn't remember him - until he realised that they were in Arthur's limbo. Everyone had been blocked out, except for Eames. He swallowed, and found a lie tripped easily to his tongue.

"Oh, I'm just a guest here. Arthur helped me find the safe for my valuables."

"Oh, he's such a sweetheart, isn't he?" Eames said, giving Arthur a tight squeeze around the shoulders. "Pity he's not fit for anything else. All he knows how to do is spend my money and whine about the attention he thinks he doesn't get."

Cobb shivered slightly. Arthur's expression looked uncertain, and he looked at Eames, beseechingly. Eames smiled, and squeezed him again.

"Only joking, sweetheart." Eames kissed him. "You know I adore you."

Cobb looked at the two men. Suddenly, he realised this was how Arthur wanted Eames - to take the stings away, to show him he loved him.

_But his view of love is so disconnected all he sees is material gifts. _

The Extractor shivered, and he felt a need to get away from the two men, and return to reality. "Listen, I need to go..."

"Of course," Eames nodded. "Good to have met you." He began to steer Arthur away. "Come on!"

Cobb turned as if to leave, and heard the two other men walk into the hotel. After waiting for a few minutes, he turned and began to follow them again. He heard their footsteps above his head, and quickly ran up the flight of stairs. As he got to the end of the corridor, he paused. He could hear voices.

"Arthur...you heard what I said..."

"You never want to spend any time with me."

"Why are you so surprised, darling? You're boring, weak, scrawny, and pathetic. Thats why I don't want to spend time with you."

"But you buy me things..."

"Because you're the perfect trophy partner, Arthur. Everyone looks at you. Everyone."

"Eames, I love you."

"Do you, Arthur? Do you really? Is that why you always whine at me?"

"Eames, please-"

"Don't touch me Arthur. I mean it."

"But Eames-"

"Arthur, I'm warning you."

"But Eames..."

"Get off me, Arthur..."

"Eames, I-"

"I said GET OFF!" Cobb heard a sound that resembled a punch. Swallowing, he put his hand on the door.

"Did that hurt?"

"Yes-"

"Good. You deserve it. Why did I end up with a weak, pathetic, little shit like you?"

"You said you loved me, once."

"I did. I lied. You are just too easy, Arthur." There was a pause. Cobb strained his ears, listening. "Right, I'm going out. And when I come back, I don't want to see you. Sleep somewhere else."

Cobb ducked back into the shadows. The door was thrown open, and Eames stalked out, his expression ugly. Feeling a surge of anger, Cobb watched as the other man began to walk down the corridor. He waited, then went inside.

Arthur was sitting on the bed, gazing vacantly into space. A bruise was beginning to form on his cheekbone. Cobb approached him.

"Arthur."

"Yes?" he spoke mechanically.

"Arthur, you have to get away from him. You have to forget that he exists." Cobb held up his hand. In it, were, the crumpled love letters that represented Arthur's feelings for Eames. "You are going to forget he exists."

Arthur looked at him. "You can't do that."

"Yes, I can." The Extractor spoke calmly, whilst reaching into his pocket and pulling out a lighter. With one flick, he'd set the papers alight. Arthur stood, his jaw dropping as the papers burned and crumpled in Cobb's hand.

"You can't-"

"I just did." Cobb looked at Arthur. "Over the last year, I've seen you go from my Point Man to a sobbing, broken wreck. Eames has broken you in half. Sometimes, I wish I'd killed you myself, to stop you hurting so much."

Arthur closed his eyes.

"Forget him, Arthur. Please." Cobb's tone was low. He turned and threw the burning papers in the fireplace - and watched with satisfaction as they disintegrated into charred dust.

Arthur's eyes were still closed. Cobb swallowed. Worried he'd gone too far, he took a step back. Suddenly, the door burst open, and Eames walked back in.

"Arthur, you're still-" he turned to Cobb, puzzled. "Who the hell are you?"

Arthur turned and looked at Eames, and raised an eyebrow.

"I could ask you the same question."


	84. Chapter 84

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Cobb watched the two men, biting his lip. Arthur raised an eyebrow, studying Eames.

"I'm sorry, I don't remember you." He turned his back, and opened the closet of the wardrobe, and reached for a black bag. Eames stood still, as though in shock.

"Artie, come on, this is silly, I said I was sorry-" he gave a nervous laugh, and the Extractor watched as his expression turned ugly. "You're just doing this deliberately, I know you are. You are so pathetic!"

Arthur looked at him, his expression growing colder. "Excuse me?"

"You're pathetic!" Eames snapped, his anger stretching his voice taut. "You are-" he reached over, and grabbed the other man's upper arm, shoving him roughly. "You are-"

Suddenly, he feel backwards. Arthur had reached out, and pushed him back.

"Don't touch me," he warned, turning back to his bag. He began to load clothes into it, Eames stumbling against the wall. Frowning, Arthur reached into his pocket, and pulled out the iPhone.

"When did I get one of these?" He asked, his tone wondering. He looked at Cobb, who swallowed.

"Art, if you can hurry up-"

Arthur looked at him. "I am." Swiftly, moving with purpose, he piled a few shirts in, and zipped the bag up. He nodded. "Lets go."

Cobb took one look at Eames, who was leaning against the wall, too stunned to move or speak. As the two men began to walk outside, the Extractor exhaled.

"Arthur, listen-"

"No, who was that guy?" his expression was genuinely puzzled. "I mean, who has the right to come barging in, pushing and grabbing at me like that? Jesus!"

Cobb bit his lip. "So - you wouldn't let someone touch you like that?"

Arthur looked at Cobb. "Please. Self-respect!"

The two men began to walk. Suddenly, Arthur turned to Cobb. "Where are we going?"

Cobb smiled. "Somewhere safe. Somewhere where you'll be-"

He stopped speaking. The ground beneath them was beginning to shake, and he swallowed. "Arthur, listen, time is running out-"

* * *

He blinked. Suddenly, he saw Ariadne coming into focus before him, tugging at the IV in his arm "How did-" her voice was barely a whisper.

Cobb rubbed his forehead. "I'm not sure." He looked at Arthur, still apparently asleep. "When he comes to, we'll have to find out." He began to stretch. "Eames?"

Ariadne shook her head. "I think he's gone."

Cobb got up, and reached for the gun at his side. "Stay here," he cautioned her. Moving carefully, he walked into the main corridor, scanning with his eyes. Swallowing, he noticed that the waiting room door was ajar. He moved cautiously towards it. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open.

Nothing. No-one.

* * *

Arthur blinked. Ariadne turned, noticing the sudden movement. He partially opened his mouth, and licked his bottom lip. She leaned over him, her face anxious.

"Anyone?" the words were barely a croak, but she gripped the side of the bed. He'd spoken. After what seemed like endless days of Arthur being lost in a mindless fog, he'd finally spoken.

"Arthur, its Ari," she said gently, leaning over, and slipping her fingers through his thin ones. He briefly squeezed her hand. Cobb came in, and she turned, her expression almost radiant.

"He's waking up."

Cobb swallowed, and sat down next to the younger man. "Art? Art can you hear me? Its Dom."

Arthur's eyelids fluttered. "Yes."

"Art, do you-" he stopped, Ariadne placing a warning hand on his shoulder. He paused. It could wait. Swallowing, he put his hand on Arthur's arm.

Ariadne blinked. "I'll get us some coffee." She turned, and left.

Arthur's eyelids fluttered again. "Dom..."

"Yes, Art?"

Arthur's eyes opened fully. "Where am I?" It was a questioning look. Cobb swallowed.

"You're in hospital, Art. You had an accident."

"I did?" Arthur blinked. "Oh, yes, must have done." To Cobb's astonishment, he began to sit up. "Can't be too careful, with what we do." He smiled. "Are the others here?"

"Others?"

"You know, Ariadne...Yusuf." There was a note of impatience in his voice. Cobb noted the conspicuous absence of the name Eames.

"Ari's here, Yusuf is at the lab. And Eames-"

Arthur frowned. "Can't say I care where he is." He began to stand up. "You know I don't like him." He shook his head. "All that flirting, and suggestive comments..." he shuddered.

Cobb was astonished. This was better than he'd even hoped for. "But you did like him at one point?"

"Probably." Arthur looked at him. "You know what he said to me once?"

"What?"

"He said, 'I'd like to be with you, so I can break you.'" Arthur chuckled to himself. "You'd have to be crazy not to see the warning signs there!"

Ariadne came in, holding two plastic cups. She looked at Arthur, who smiled at her. "Hey."

She looked at Dom. "Well-"

"Come on," Dom said, finally. "Let's get out of here!"

* * *

Eames boarded the plane, and smiled at the attractive male steward. He reciprocated, a slight flush warming his cheeks.

The Forger cocked an eyebrow. Slender, dark - remarkably like Arthur.

He'd gone. He knew he wouldn't be welcome back at the Warehouse, or at the house. Arthur was nothing more than a mindless, drooling idiot. And wanted for assault, and murder. He chuckled softly. He knew that he'd be-

"Mr Eames?"

He blinked, and looked up. A young man was standing in front of him. Wearing a dark suit, and a marshall's badge. Eames frowned.

"Yes?" he responded, politely.

"I'd like you to come with me. You are not obliged to-"

"What?" Eames interrputed. He looked puzzled.

"Mr Eames. You have made two counts of alleged assault against your common law partner, Arthur Trent Richards. We have evidence to believe that you caused both assaults yourself, and framed Mr Richards."

"Evidence?" Eames said, starting to laugh. The other passengers were nodding and whispering.

The Marshall - whose badge stated the name Ellison - pulled bag out of his pocket, and slowly unwrapped it.

Eames' eyes bulged. The gun.

"This was found, in the bushes outside the house you and Mr Richards shared." The Marshall's tone was flat. "You claimed he shot you. Forensic examination has found only your fingerprints on it."

Eames swallowed. The gun. Why didn't he think?

"Due to this, Mr Richards was falsely arrested, and imprisoned, causing him to skip bail. You went to Mombasa."

Eames nodded, numbly.

"Mr Eames., Please get off this plane."

In shock, Eames began to stand, allowing himself to be handcuffed, and led away.

"How did you-" Eames choked out. Ellison smiled.

"Mr Eames. Ever since we received a tip off, we've been staking out the airports, looking for you."

* * *

"So, this new job?"

Cobb looked at Arthur, marvelling at the change in him. He'd clearly forgotten everything. Being in limbo had erased his memory; the extraction destroyed any feelings he'd had for Eames.

"Well," Cobb began. He, Arthur, and Ariadne were seated in Arthur's elegant dining room. Cobb had insisted on going to the house first, to check it was tidy, but as soon as he'd walked in, he realised Eames had erased every trace of his existence.

He didn't know where the Forger was. And, he realised, he didn't care, either.

"Its going to be-" the doorbell rang. Arthur got up. "Excuse me."

He opened the door. Marshall Ellison was on the other side. "Mr Richards?"

"Yes," Arthur said, politely. "May I help you?"

"Just to inform you that Michael Eames will be standing trial next week for conspiracy for second degree assault."

Arthur frowned. "Really? Good. I never liked the guy."

Ellison blinked. This wasn't what he expected. "Mr Ric-"

"I think you want to check your records," Arthur blurted out. "I have no time for the guy." He began to shut the door.

"What was that?" Cobb asked, knowing that Saito had been using his contacts to assist Arthur. The Japanese magnate had been extremely happy to do so, provided he was paid with a new extraction.

"A marshall." Arthur frowned. "Apparently, Eames has been arrested and charged with conspiracy to assault."

"Oh," Cobb said, looking relieved, a look he quickly changed. "I see."

"Thank God," Arthur said, shuddering. "I always knew he was bad news."

* * *

Eames lay on the narrow bunk, his cheek burning. The fight he'd had with another inmate had resulted in him being punched, hard.

He couldn't believe it. He was trapped, inside, and Arthur was free. Probably still a mindless idiot, but free. No doubt protected by Cobb. And no doubt with Cobb.

Angrily, he swung his legs round. Time to write a letter.

* * *

Cobb walked in to the warehouse main room. "You ok?"

"Yeah..." Arthur was reading intently. "Just got this...from Eames!"

"Eames?" Cobb asked, his heart pounding. "What does he say?"

"That I'm a slimy, lying, no good little piece of ass who he would happily pound into oblivion if he could again," Arthur commented, crumpling the letter up. "Typical Eames."

Cobb nodded. "Absolutely."

Arthur shrugged. "He's such an asshole, really."

Cobb nodded again. "I hear you." He turned, and left.

Arthur smoothed the letter out. _All those precious moments we shared...you know what I mean..._

Arthur looked at the door. "I know what you did, Cobb," he whispered, "and I'll play along with it. And if Eames ever gets released..." he broke off, and rubbed his face, and pulling open his desk drawer, looked at his gun. Arranging his face into a smile, he threw the letter at the trash can, and turned to join the others outside.

**Complete. **

**All reviews appreciated, thank you. And thank you so much for reading! **


	85. Epilogue

**Inception does not belong to me. **

"You came, then?"

"Of course. Very difficult to ignore a letter when it has tear stains on it. Or did you use a watering can?"

"They were genuine."

"I'm sure they were. Like mine were."

"You put up with it."

"I know I did. I put up with it, because I kept telling myself that things would get better. That one day, you might say you were sorry."

"I am sorry."

"Really?"

"Yes, Arthur. I'm sorry I hit you. Sorry I bruised you. Sorry I raped you."

"Thank you."

Eames leaned back, observing Arthur through the glass. The Point Man was perfectly composed, wearing a suit he'd never seen before. He looked healthy, and relaxed. Eames blinked, aware of his growing stuble.

"Why did you do it to me, Eames?"

The Forger smirked. "You really want to know?"

"Yes."

"Because I could, Arthur. Because I could." Eames raised an eyebrow. "Because you put up with it."

Arthur nodded. "I did."

"But, you're on the outside, and I'm in here." Eames tilted his head.

"I know." Arthur looked at him. "Thats what you get for hurting someone."

Eames looked at him. " You do know that Cobb tried to incept you?"

Arthur nodded. "I know. And you know what? I'm glad he did. Goodbye, Eames." Getting up, he turned and began to leave the room.

"Arthur!" Eames' voice held an element of shock. "Arthur, come back! Remember, I love you!"

Arthur turned, and shook his head. "No, Eames," he said softly, forgetting the whitewashed walls, the other prisoners, and focusing only on the agonised expression of the Forger. "No, you don't. And you never did. But I loved you. You remember that."

The Forger shrank back in his seat, tears beginning to run down his face. Arthur checked his totem - the correct weight. With a sense of regret, and a new feeling of hope, he began to walk out of the visiting room, leaving Eames, and the past, behind.

**Reviews always ap preciated. Thank you!**


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